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Professor  Raymond’s  System  of  COMPARATIVE  ^ESTHETICS 

I.  — Art  in  Theory.  8°,  cloth  extra  ......  $1.75 

“ Scores  an  advance  upon  the  many  art-criticisms  extant.  . . . Twenty  brilliant  chap- 
ters, pregnant  with  suggestion.” — Popular  Science  Monthly. 

“A  well  grounded,  thoroughly  supported,  and  entirely  artistic  conception  of  art  that  will 
lead  observers  to  distrust  the  charlatanism  that  imposes  an  idle  and  superficial  mannerism 
upon  the  public  in  place  of  true  beauty  and  honest  workmanship.” — The  New  York 
Times.  ' 

“ His  style  is  good,  and  his  logic  sound,  and  ...  of  the  greatest  possible  service  to  the 
student  of  artistic  theories.” — Art  Journal  (London). 

II.  — The  Representative  Significance  of  Form.  8°,  cloth  extra.  $2.00 

“A  valuable  essav.  . . . Professor  Raymond  goes  so  deep  into  causes  as  to  explore  the 
subconscious  and  the  unconscious  mind  for  a solution  of  his  problems,  and  eloquently  to 
range  through  the  conceptions  of  religion,  science  and  metaphysics  in  order  to  find  fixed 
principles  of  taste.  ...  A highly  interesting  discussion.” — The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

44  Evidently  the  ripe  fruit  of  years  of  patient  and  exhaustive  study  on  the  part  of  a man 
singularly  fitted  for  his  task.  . It  is  profound  in  insight,  searching  in  analysis,  broad  in 
spirit,  and  thoroughly  modern  in  method  and  sympathy.” — The  Universalist  Leader. 

“Its  title  gives  no  intimation  to  the  general  reader  of  its  attractiveness  for  him,  or  to 
curious  readers  of  its  widely  discursive  range  of  interest.  ...  Its  broad  range  may  re- 
mind one  of  those  scythe-bearing  chariots  with  which  the  ancient  Persians  used  to  mow 
down  hostile  files.” — The  Outlook. 

III.  — Poetry  as  a Representative  Art.  8°,  cloth  extra  $175 

44  I have  read  it  with  pleasure,  and  a sense  of  instruction  on  many  points.” — Francis 
Turner  Palgravey  Professor  of  Poetry , Oxford  University. 

14  Dieses  ganz  vortreffliche  Werk.” — Englische  Studieny  Universitat  Breslau. 

“An  acute,  interesting,  and  brilliant  piece  of  work.  ...  As  a whole  the  essay  deserves 
unqualified  praise.” — N.  Y.  Independent. 

IV.  — Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative  Arts. 

With  225  illustrations.  8°  .....  $2.50 

. 41  The  artist  will  find  in  it  a wealth  of  profound  and  varied  learning ; of  original,  sugges- 
tive, helpful  thought  . . . of  absolutely  inestimable  value.” — The  Looker-on. 

“Expression  by  means  of  extension  or  size,  . . . shape,  . . . regularity  in  outlines 
. . . the  human  body  . . . posture,  gesture,  and  movement,  . . . are  all  considered 
...  A specially  interesting  chapter  is  the  one  on  color.” — Current  Literature. 

“ The  whole  book  is  the  work  of  a man  of  exceptional  thoughtfulness,  who  says  what 
he  has  to  say  in  a remarkably  lucid  and  direct  manner.” — Philadelphia  Press. 

V.  — The  Genesis  of  Art  Form.  Fully  illustrated.  8°  . $2.25 

44  In  a spirit  at  once  scientific  and  that  of  the  true  artist,  he  pierces  through  the  mani- 
festations of  art  to  their  sources,  and  shows  the  relations,  intimate  and  essential,  between 
painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  and  architecture.  A book  that  possesses  not  only  sin- 
gular value,  but  singular  charm.” — M Y.  Times, 

“A  help  and  a delight.  Every  aspirant  for  culture  jn  any  of  the  liberal  arts,  including 
music  and  poetry,  will  find  something  in  this  book  to  aid  him.” — Boston  Times.  < 

“It  is  impossible  to  withhold  one’s  admiration  from  a treatise  which  exhibits  in  such  a 
large  degree  the  qualities  of  philosophic  criticism.” — Philadelphia  Press. 

VI.  — Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music.  Together  with 

Music  as  a Representative  Art.  8°,  cloth  extra  . $1.75 

44  Prof.  Raymond  has  chosen  a delightful  subject,  and  he  treats  it  with  all  the  charm  of 
narrative  ana  high  thought  and  profound  study.” — New  Orleans  States. 

44  The  reader  must  be,  indeed,  a person  either  of  supernatural  stupidity  or  of  marvellous 
erudition,  who  does  not  discover  much  information  in  Prof.  Raymond's  exhaustive  and 
instructive  treatise.  From  page  to  page  it  is  full  of  suggestion.” — The  Academy  (London). 

VII.  — Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting, 

Sculpture,  and  Architecture.  Fully  illustrated.  8°  . $2.50 

44  Marked  by  profound  thought  along  lines  unfamiliar  to  most  readers  and  thinkers.  . . 

When  grasped,  however,  it  becomes  a source  of  great  enjoyment  and  exhilaration.  . . . No 
critical  person  can  afford  to  ignore  so  valuable  a contribution  to  the  art-thought  of  the 
day.” — The  Art  Interchange  (N.  Y .). 

44  One  does  not  need  to  be  a scholar  to  follow  this  scholar  as  he  teaches  while  seeming  to 
entertain,  for  he  does  both.” — Burlington  Hawkeye. 

44  The  artist  who  wishes  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  color,  the  sculptor  who  desires  to 
cultivate  his  sense  of  proportion,  or  the  architect  whose  ambition  is  to  reach  to  a high 
•tandard  will  find  the  work  helpful  and  inspiring.” — Boston  Transcript. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


3 6 4^ 


PAINTING,  SCULPTURE 

II 


PROFESSOR  OF  ^ESTHETICS  IN  THE  COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JERSEY  AT  PRINCETON  ; AUTHOR  OF 
“ ART  IN  THEORY,”  “ THE  REPRESENTATIVE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  FORM,”  “ POETRY  AS 
A REPRESENTATIVE  ART,”  “ THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM,”  “ RHYTHM  AND 
HARMONY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC,”  “PROPORTION  AND  HARMONY 
OF  LINE  AND  COLOR  IN  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHI- 
TECTURE,” “THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  ^ESTHETICS,”  ETC. 


AND 


ARCHITECTURE 


AS  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS 


AN  ESSAY  IN 


COMPARATIVE  AESTHETICS 


BY 


GEORGE  LANSING  RAYMOND,  L.H.D. 


SECOND  EDITION , REVISED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 


NEW  YORK 

27  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 


LONDON 

24  BEDFORD  STREET.  STRANI 


&bc  luticlmboclier  ;j9rtss 
I9O9 


COPYRIGHT,  1895 
BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 


Entered  at  Stationers’  Hall,  London 


Ube  lltnlclicrbocfccr  Iprcss,  Hlew  Iftocbclle,  1R.  13. 


PREFACE. 


HIS  book  contains  an  application  to  the  arts  of  sight 


of  the  principles  unfolded  in  the  volume  entitled 
“Art  in  Theory.”  For  the  benefit  of  readers  not 
acquainted  with  that  volume,  its  general  conclusions  have 
been  briefly  reviewed  in  the  first  two  chapters  of  this, 
which  chapters,  without  lessening  the  intelligibility  of  the 
rest  of  the  discussion,  may  be  omitted  by  those  not  inter- 
ested in  the  philosophy  of  the  subject.  In  connection 
with  this  review,  and  also,  to  an  extent,  in  other  parts  of 
the  volume,  the  various  factors  entering  into  visible  repre- 
sentation have  been  correlated  to  those  entering  into 
audible  representation  as  already  unfolded  in  the  volume 
entitled  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art  ” and  in  the 
essay  on  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art,”  published  in 
the  volume  entitled  “ Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry 
and  Music.” 

As  for  visible  representation  considered  by  itself,  the 
principles  underlying  this  have,  for  the  first  time,  been 
shown  to  be  the  same  as  applied  not  only  in  the  higher 
arts  of  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  but  also  in  the 
art  intimately  connected  with  the  first  two,  of  pantomime 
or  gesture,  as  well  as  in  the  methods  of  reading  character, 
hardly  less  intimately  connected  with  them,  which  are 
employed  with  various  degrees  of  success  in  physiology, 
physiognomy,  phrenology,  and  palmistry. 


IV 


PREFACE. 


Like  the  other  books  of  this  series,  the  present  is  amply 
illustrated  ; in  part  to  enable  those  who  cannot  obtain 
access  to  galleries  or  libraries  to  understand  exactly  what 
is  meant  by  its  statements ; in  part  to  enable  them, 
through  numerous  examples,  to  come  to  a perception  of 
the  truth  of  these  statements.  This  latter  result  is  by  no 
means  easy  to  attain.  Few  things  require  more  time,  if 
for  no  other  reason,  because  they  necessitate  experience, 
than  learning  to  recognize,  put  together,  spell  out,  and 
read  fluently  the  symbols  representing  the  subtle  language 
of  the  arts  whether  of  sound  or  of  sight.  To  conduct  the 
reader  through  certain  preliminary  stages  of  this  process, 
is  the  object  of  this  book.  It  is  acknowledged  that  the 
pathway  through  which  he  will  be  led  is  a little  unu- 
sual, and  so  too  the  conception  of  representative  signifi- 
cance at  which  he  is  expected  to  arrive.  But  it  is 
hoped  that  he  will  not  therefore  be  deterred  from  giving 
the  treatment  candid  consideration. 

This  remark  applies  not  only  to  the  general  reader,  but 
even  to  some  acknowledged  specialists.  I once  went 
over  the  motives  of  Wagner  with  the  most  broadly 
cultured  musician  whom  I knew,  and  I found  that  while 
he  perceived,  at  once,  the  representative  elements  in  what 
are  ordinarily  termed  imitative  passages,  he  failed  to  per- 
ceive them,  till  pointed  out  to  him,  in  many  other  passages 
so  unmistakably  developed  from  the  intonations  of  speech 
that  to  me  they  seemed  to  talk — of  course  only  in  the 
sense  of  voicing  the  trend  of  emotive  processes  which 
alone  is  possible  to  music — almost  as  plainly  as  if  the 
notes  were  words.  The  fact  struck  me,  at  first,  as  strange, 
my  own  musical  education  having  been  limited,  aside  from 
vocal  studies,  to  seven  or  eight  years’  practice  on  the 
piano,  a course  in  thorough  bass  and  harmony,  and  about- 


PREFA  CE. 


V 


two  years’  application  of  them  to  an  organ  played  in 
church, — all  before  I was  out  of  my  teens.  But  upon 
reflection,  I understood  that  what  he  lacked  was  my 
twenty  years’  experience  in  teaching  the  melody  of 
speech.  So  with  the  significance  of  visible  form.  One 
whose  experience  has  forced  him,  as  mine  has,  to  the 
conclusion  that  every  shape  of  the  human  body,  natural 
or  assumed,  has  a meaning  peculiar  to  itself,  though  pos- 
sibly beyond  even  an  expert’s  power  of  interpretation, 
finds  himself,  very  soon,  according  to  the  principle  of 
association,  drawing  the  same  conclusion  with  reference 
to  all  shapes,  whether  human  or  not  human.  Those 
who  think  it  not  essential  to  discuss  the  general  accuracy 
of  this  conclusion,  as  applied  to  all  phenomena  audible  or 
visible  ; or  who  imagine  that,  if  true,  art  has  no  mission 
in  revealing  and  emphasizing  it,  have,  simply,  not  learned 
all  that  life  is  designed  to  teach  them  ; or  those  who 
conceive  that  the  methods  through  which  art  can  fulfil 
this  mission  can  be  apprehended  and  appreciated  with- 
out their  stopping  to  think  over  each  detail  of  the  subject, 
to  examine  the  exemplifications  of  it,  and  to  apply  many 
original  tests  of  their  own  to  it,  have  not  yet  begun  to 
learn  the  methods  through  which  life  can  teach  them  any- 
thing of  deep  importance. 

Nor  can  it  be  said  that,  at  the  present  time,  there  is  no 
need  of  a book  dealing  with  this  subject,  or  with  the  other 
subjects  which  have  been  treated  in  this  series  of  volumes. 
Everybody  who  reads  much  is  probably  aware  that,  as 
applied  to  the  plastic  arts,  statements  go  practically  un- 
challenged which  assert — to  quote  from  reviews  upon 
aesthetic  theories  published  in  prominent  journals — that 
“Art  is  the  application  to  anything ,” — the  italics  are 
quoted — “ in  the  spirit  of  play  and  for  pleasure  only,  of 


VI 


PREFA  CE. 


the  principle  of  proportion,”  or  that  “Art  is  simply, 
wholly,  and  entirely  a matter  of  form  . . . the  best 

critical  judgment  nowadays  assumes  the  identity  of  the 
art-form  with  the  art-meaning.”  But  few  are  aware  that 
the  result  has  followed  which  a logical  mind  would  at  once 
have  anticipated,  namely,  that  the  same  theory  is  applied 
to  all  the  arts — to  poetry,  for  instance.  If  they  did  know 
this,  they  might  begin  to  surmise  the  danger  of  the  situa- 
tion. Think  of  the  literary  prospects  of  a country,  of  the 
possibilities  of  its  receiving  any  inspiring  impulses  from  its 
poets  at  a period  when  new  authors,  writing  with  the 
acknowledged  motive  of  Dante,  Milton,  or  Wordsworth, 
would,  for  this  reason  and  for  no  other  reason,  fail  to  com- 
mend themselves  to  the  leaders  of  literary  opinion!  Yet 
one  who  has  followed  the  views  expressed  in  what  maybe 
termed  the  professional  critical  journals  of  our  country, 
would  not  be  far  astray  in  claiming  that  this  accurately 
describes  our  own  condition.  The  same  France  from 
which  we  have  derived  the  notion  that  significance  is  not 
essential  to  painting,  has  also  taught  us,  and  the  lesson 
has  been  accepted  and  subtly  assimilated  so  as  to  become, 
almost  unconsciously  to  ourselves,  a part  of  the  literary 
belief  of  some  of  us,  that  it  is  not  essential,  either,  to 
poetry.  In  fact,  Max  Nordau’s  statement  in  “ Degenera- 
tion,” that  “ The  theory  of  the  importance  of  form,  of  the 
intrinsic  value  of  beauty  in  the  sound  of  words,  of  the 
sensuous  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  sonorous  syllables 
without  regard  to  their  sense,  and  of  the  uselessness  and 
even  harmfulness  of  thought  in  poetry  has  become  deci- 
sive in  the  most  recent  development  of  poetry,”  could 
be  applied  to  France  not  only  but  to  our  own  country. 
What  Nordau  means  he  indicates  by  quotations, — this,  for 
instance,  from  Theophile  Gautier:  “For  the  poet  words 


PREFA  CE. 


vii 

have  in  themselves,  and  outside  the  sense  they  express,  a 
beauty  and  a value  of  their  own.  . . . Nothing  is  less 
ideal  than  a poet.”  He  “is  a laborer;  he  ought  not  to 
have  more  intelligence  than  a laborer.”  Also  this  from 
Charles  Baudelaire  : “ If  the  poet  has  pursued  a moral 
aim,  he  has  diminished  his  poetic  power,  and  it  is  not  im- 
prudent to  wager  that  his  work  will  be  bad.  Poetry  has 
not  truth  for  its  object,  it  has  only  itself.”  And  this  from 
Gustave  Flaubert:  “A  beautiful  verse  meaning  nothing 
is  superior  to  a verse  less  beautiful  meaning  something,” 
which  latter  has  been  echoed  in  England  by  Oscar  Wilde, 
who  apparently  is  able  in  more  departments  than  one  to 
get  along  without  those  dualities  which  ordinary  mortals 
suppose  to  be  desirable.  “ From  time  to  time,”  he  says, 
“ the  world  cries  out  against  some  charming  artistic  poet 
because,  to  use  its  hackneyed  and  silly  phrase,  he  has 
‘ nothing  to  say.’  But  if  he  had  something  to  say  he  would 
probably  say  it,  and  the  result  would  be  tedious.  It  is 
just  because  he  has  no  new  message  that  he  can  do  beau- 
tiful work.” 

The  reason  why  such  writers  fail  to  recognize  the 
importance  of  representative  significance  is  easy  enough 
to  understand.  Art  is  a complex  subject.  Significance  is 
no  more  essential  in  it  than  is  technique  ; and  the  mere 
rudiments  of  this  it  takes  years  to  master.  As  both  Goethe 
and  Longfellow  have  told  us,  the  pathway  to  art,  even  if 
by  this  we  mean  merely  the  art  of  versifying,  or  of  coloring 
with  proficiency,  is  long.  Unfortunately  for  many  it  is  so 
very  long  that  before  they  are  fairly  in  sight  of  its  termi- 
nation they  have  apparently  lost  sight  of  everything  else. 
Nevertheless  the  general,  if  not  the  aesthetic,  public,  upon 
whose  judgment  the  rank  of  the  art-work  must  ultimately 
depend,  know  and  care  little  about  technique,  except  so 


vm 


PREFA  CE. 


far  as  it  has  enabled  the  artist  to  secure  for  his  product 
a certain  satisfactory  representative  effect.  But  this  effect 
depends  in  some  cases  as  much  upon  what  may  be  termed 
the  expressional  norm  chosen  as  the  nucleus  of  develop- 
ment, as  upon  the  method  of  its  development ; in  other 
words,  as  much  upon  that  which  is  significant  in  the  work 
as  upon  that  which  is  excellent  in  its  form.  As  shown  in 
Chapters  IV.  to  VII.  of  “Art  in  Theory,”  successful  art  is 
always  the  insignia  with  which  the  play-impulse  decorates 
that  which  before  the  decoration  has  shown  in  practical 
relations  its  right  to  receive  it.  Just  as  a successful  drama 
is  an  artistic  development  of  imagination  at  play  with  the 
words  of  natural  conversation;  so  a successful  melody  is 
a development  of  the  same  at  play  with  the  intonations  of 
natural  conversation  ; and  a successful  picture,  of  the  same 
at  play  with  the  outlines  and  colors  of  natural  scenes. 
What  imagination  does  is  to  elaborate  the  form,  this 
being  accomplished  in  our  own  day  through  carrying  out 
the  laws  of  complicated  systems  of  rhythm,  harmony, 
drawing,  or  coloring.  But  the  forms  that  art,  if  high  art, 
in  each  case  elaborates,  are  forms  of  expressing  thought 
and  emotion. 

If  this  statement  be  true,  the  theories  of  this  book  have 
a practical  as  well  as  a theoretical  bearing.  Some  time 
ago  I listened  to  a rendering  by  a college  glee  club  of  the 
“Merry  Miller”  chorus  from  DeKoven’s  “Rob  Roy.” 
The  question  and  answer  “What,  Margery? — Ay,  Mar- 
gery,” were  sung  in  an  unpardonably  expressionless  way; 
yet  because  true  to  the  intonations  of  speech,  they  took 
the  audience  by  storm  ; and  I can  now  recall  no  melody 
of  great  popularity  in  which  underneath  all  the  decorative 
vestiture  of  the  form,  however  much  the  pitch  may  be 
pushed  up  here  or  pulled  down  there,  it  is  not  possible  to 


PREFA  CE. 


IX 


detect  general  outlines  true  to  certain  first  principles  of 
vocal  expression.  Some  melodies,  indeed,  like  “ Cornin' 
thro’  the  Rye  ” can  be  talked  off  with  absolute  fidelity 
to  every  musical  note.  But  if  melody  be  thus  developed 
from  speech,  the  same  must  be  remotely  true  of  harmony 
for  this,  in  its  turn,  as  shown  in  Chapters  XII.  to  XV.  of 
“ Rhythm  and  Harmony,”  is  itself,  in  its  incipiency,  a de- 
velopment of  melody. 

It  is  true  that  it  is  said  of  the  melodies  of  speech,  as 
well  as  of  the  movements  of  gesture,  such  as  are  consid- 
ered in  the  present  volume,  that  their  significance  differs 
in  different  countries.  But  those  who  say  this,  as  some 
have  done,  imagining  the  statement,  however  true,  to 
involve  a refutation  of  any  principle  advanced  in  this 
series  of  essays,  merely  show  how  superficially  they  have 
read  them.  As  applied  to  music,  for  instance,  such  a 
statement  is  not  made  with  reference  to  time,  force,  or 
volume — only  with  reference  to  pitch,  as  used  in  the 
inflections.  But  in  “ Rhythm  and  Harmony,”  pages  265 
to  267,  it  is  very  carefully  shown  that  the  inflection  is  not 
representative  of  the  phraseology  but  of  the  motive  ex- 
pressed in  the  phraseology,  many  instances  being  cited  in 
which  precisely  the  same  phrases  are  rightly  uttered  with 
exactly  opposite  inflections.  This  being  understood,  the 
objection  mentioned  falls  to  the  ground.  When,  for 
instance,  for  reasons  which  the  reference  just  given  will 
indicate,  an  American  says  to  you  at  the  table,  “ Will  you 
please  pass  me  the  bread  ? ” with  a rising  inflection  on 
the  last  word,  what  is  uppermost  in  his  mind  is  to  indi- 
cate his  acknowledgment  that  your  action  in  the  matter 
is  questionable  ; and  that  he  leaves  it  open  for  you  to  do 
as  you  choose.  But  when  an  Englishman  asks  the  same 
question,  as  he  almost  invariably  does,  with  a falling 


X 


PREFA  CE. 


inflection,  what  is  uppermost  in  his  mind  is  to  make  an 
assertion  with  reference  to  his  wishes,  and  to  indicate,  as, 
in  other  matters,  he  is  apt  to  do  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
seem,  at  times,  slightly  dictatorial,  that  it  is  not  open  for 
you  to  differ  from  him  in  thinking  that,  if  you  are  a 
gentleman,  you  are  expected  to  do  as  he — gently — bids 
you.  People  of  Southern  Europe,  even  Irishmen,  some- 
times end  what  seem  positive  assertions  with  an  upward 
turn  of  the  voice.  But  they  are  not  positive  assertions. 
They  are  grammatical  forms  of  assertion  as  uttered  by 
men  with  habits  acquired  by  being  constantly  contra- 
dicted, or,  at  least,  obliged  to  subordinate  their  own  views 
to  those  of  others,  who  alone  are  supposed  to  have  a right 
to  speak  with  authority.  Of  course,  such  methods  of 
intonation,  once  acquired,  may  be  continued  from  father 
to  son  by  imitation.  But  despite  the  tendency  to  this 
latter,  they  usually  cease  to  be  continued  after  social  and 
religious  conditions  change.  One  generation  of  residence 
in  America  will  train  any  foreigner,  whatever  his  language, 
to  express  his  decided  sentiments  just  as  in  his  own  land 
his  own  babe,  before  learning  to  imitate,  invariably  does, 
without  any  such  questionable  suggestion.  Again  a 
Bedouin  will  beckon  you  toward  himself  with  a quick 
movement  of  his  hand,  the  palm  of  which  is  not  turned 
up,  as  with  us,  but  down.  What  does  this  form  of  ges- 
ture mean?  Very  clearly,  that  the  Bedouin,  while  he 
wishes  you  nearer  himself,  is  not  opening  his  whole 
heart  to  you,  or  asking  you  to  occupy  a position 
on  a social  or  sympathetic  level  with  himself.  On  the 
contrary,  unconsciously,  perhaps,  he  is  on  his  guard 
against  you  and  intends  to  keep  you  in  a safe  and 
proper  place — below  him.  See  pages  156  to  1 6 1 . In 
fact,  the  character  of  his  gesture  affords  an  almost  posi- 


PKEFA  CE. 


XI 


tive  proof  of  the  hostile  nature  of  those  with  whom  he  and 
his  fathers  have  for  years  been  accustomed  to  associate. 

Similar  explanations  might  show  that  other  apparent 
exceptions  to  the  principles  unfolded  in  these  essays  fur- 
nish, when  intelligently  interpreted,  the  strongest  possible 
confirmation  of  their  universal  applicability ; though,  of 
course,  among  the  hundreds  of  illustrations  used  or  sug- 
gesting themselves  to  the  reader,  it  would  be  strange  if 
some  were  not  found  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  recon- 
cile with  any  principle  whatever. 

But  it  is  hoped  that  exceptional  cases  which,  possibly, 
on  second  thought,  the  author  might  explain,  or  the 
reader  apprehend  differently,  will  not  deter  any  from  a 
serious  consideration  of  the  principles  themselves,  the 
acceptance  of  which  cannot  fail  to  have  an  important 
influence  upon  all  one’s  views  either  of  art  or  of  life.  For, 
if  true,  they  show  that  the  poems,  symphonies,  paintings, 
statues,  and  buildings  produced  by  the  artist  differ  from 
the  elementary  forms  of  these  produced  before  his  appear- 
ance, mainly  in  the  greater  degree  in  which  he  has  learned  to 
read  through  forms,  whether  human  or  not,  that  which  is 
in  the  soul  of  man  and  of  all  things.  For  one  who  prac- 
tises art  or  enjoys  it,  or  takes  any  interest  in  it  whatever, 
though  not  beyond  a perception  that  it  is  about  him  and 
has  come  to  stay  ; and  not  only  for  such  an  one,  but  for  all 
who  live  in  a world  surrounded  by  appearances  which  could 
awaken  infinitely  more  interest,  were  it  believed  that 
every  slightest  feature  of  them  might  be  recognized  to  be 
definitely  significant  and  suggestive  and,  therefore,  in- 
structive and  inspiring, — this,  certainly,  is  a conception  of 
art  and  of  life  and  of  the  relations  between  them,  which 
is  worth  holding. 

Princeton,  September,  1895. 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

PAGE 

Correspondences  between  the  Principles  of  Rep- 
resentation in  the  Arts  of  Sound  and  of 
Sight  ........  1-13 

The  Higher  Arts  as  All  Representative — Of  Mental  Processes 
— Of  Material  Phenomena — The  Principle  of  Correspondence  by 
Way  of  Association  and  Comparison,  as  Applied  to  Language — 
Representation  by  Instinctive  Exclamations — By  Reflective  Imita- 
tive Sounds — Poetry  and  Music  as  Developed  from  these  Two 
Methods — Correspondences  by  Way  of  Association  and  Comparison 
in  the  Arts  of  Sight — -Differences  in  the  Ways  in  which  the  Two 
are  Recognized  and  Used — The  Instinctive  and  Reflective  Tenden- 
cies as  Respectively  Manifested  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Archi- 
tecture— The  Emotive  as  a Combination  of  Both  Tendencies — 
Illustrated  by  Facts. 

II. 

Correspondences  between  the  Factors  of  Rep- 
resentation in  the  Arts  of  Sound  and  of 
Sight  ........  14-22 

Factors  of  Visible  Representation  to  be  Considered  Separately 
and  as  Combined — Duration,  Time,  and  Pauses  in  Sounds  Corre- 
lated to  Extension,  Size,  and  Outlines  in  Shapes — Force,  Gradation, 
and  Regularity  among  Sounds  Correlated  to  Similar  Effects  in 
Shapes — Measures,  Rhythm,  and  Accent  Correlated  to  Measure- 
ments Proportion  and  Shading — Pitch  and  Quality  of  Sounds  Corre- 
lated to  Effects  of  Color — Effect  of  Accent  on  the  Pitch  of  Tones 
Correlated  to  that  of  Shading  upon  Color — Each  Factor  of  Visible 
Effect  Representative — Instinctive,  Reflective,  and  Emotive  Rep- 
resentation Illustrated  as  Applied  to  Extension  or  Size — As  Applied 
to  Shading  and  Color. 

xiii 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


III. 

PAGE 

Representation  by  Means  of  Extension  or  Size  23-38 

Representation  in  Art  Based  upon  Methods  of  Expressing  Thought 
and  Emotion  through  the  Use  of  the  Human  Body — Size  as  Rep- 
resenting Heaviness,  Strength,  Immovability,  Substantiality,  or  the 
Opposite — As  Representing  the  Important,  Influential,  Dignified, 
or  the  Opposite — The  Representation  of  these  Conceptions  Made 
Consistent  with  the  Representation  of  Actual  External  Appear- 
ances through  the  Laws  of  Perspective  as  Indicating  Nearness — 
Differences  between  Requirements  of  Representation  in  these  Arts 
and  in  Music  and  Architecture — Similarity,  Nevertheless,  in  the 
Methods  of  Representation — As  Applied  also  to  the  Laws  of  Per- 
spective— Recapitulation  and  Illustrations  of  these  Methods  as  Ap- 
plied to  Size. 

IV. 

Representing  by  Means  of  Shape  : the  Accenting 

or  Shading  of  Outlines  ....  39-54 

Force,  Pitch,  and  Quality,  as  Exemplified  in  the  Arts  of  Sound — 
Illustrations — Pause  and  Accent  as  Correlated  to  Outline  and  Shad- 
ing— Touch  or  Handling  as  Differing  in  Strength,  Gradation,  and 
Regularity  : Strength — Examples  of  Strength  and  Delicacy  of 

Touch  in  Outline  Sketches — Other  Examples — The  Same  as  Ap- 
plied in  Connection  with  Color — As  Applied  in  Sculpture — As  Ap- 
plied in  Architecture — The  Importance  of  the  Effects  of  Light  and 
Shade  in  this  Art. 

V. 

Gradation  in  the  Outlines  of  Shapes,  Curved, 

Angular  and  Both  Combined  . . . 55-87 

Meaning  and  Effect  of  Gradation  as  Applied  to  Outline — Effects 
of  Gradation  in  the  Arts  of  Sound — Corresponding  Effects  in  the 
Arts  of  Sight — Three  Methods  of  Describing  the  Outlines  of  a 
Form — Each  Method  Representative  of  both  Mental  and  Material 
Conditions — How  Drawing  by  the  Hand  is  Representative  of 
Instructive,  Reflective,  and  Emotive  Mental  Conditions — How  the 
Actions  of  the  Body  are  Representative  of  the  Same — How 
Appearances  in  Nature  are  Similarly  Representative  to  the  Mind 
of  the  Spectator — Curvature — Angularity  and  Straight  Lines — I fori- 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


zontality  and  Effects  of  Repose,  Verticality  and  Effects  of  Elevation 
and  Aspiration — Mixed  Lines  and  Effects  of  Excitation — Illustra- 
tions from  Landscape  Gardening — From  Painting  and  Sculpture — 
Quotations  Confirming  these  Explanations  as  Applied  to  Painting 
- — -To  Sculpture — Similar  Outlines  as  Used  in  Architecture — Their 
Representative  Meanings : The  Rounded  Forms — The  Straight 
Lines  and  Angles — The  Combinations  of  Both — Recapitulation. 

VI. 

Regularity  in  Outlines  : Radiation,  Parallel- 
ism, Circles,  and  Ovals  ....  88-105 

Regularity  as  Applied  to  Sizes  and  Shapes — Framework  of  Lines 
on  which  Art-Products  are  Constructed — How  this  Accords  with 
the  Requirements  of  Nature  in  General,  as  in  Radiation  or  Central 
Point — As  in  Setting — As  in  Parallelism — Also  with  the  Require- 
ments of  Individual  Objects  in  Nature — This  Framework  Accords 
with  the  Requirements  both  of  Mental  Conceptions  and  Material 
Appearances — Significance  of  Regularity  and  Irregularity  in 
Representations  of  the  Mind — Of  External  Natural  Phenomena 
— Blending  of  Regularity  and  Irregularity  in  the  Human  Form  and 
Face — As  Judged  by  an  Ideal  Framework — Its  Vertical  Lines — Its 
Horizontal  Lines — Facial  Regularity  does  not  Involve  Sameness 
— Slight  Departures  from  it  not  Inconsistent  with  a Degree  of 
Beauty — Great  Departures  Allowable  for  the  Sake  of  Expression  or 
Contrast — Necessity  of  Considering  Differences  and  Deviations  in 
Regularity  Especially  as  Manifested  in  the  Innate  and  Assumed 
Appearances  of  Men. 

VII. 

Representation  Through  the  Natural  Shapes 

of  the  Human  Body  : General  Principles,  106-124 

Importance  to  Art  of  the  Study  of  the  Meaning  of  the  Shapes  and 
Postures  of  the  Human  Figure — Sources  of  Information  on  this 
Subject — Relation  of  the  Subject  to  Physical  Facts — Meaning  of 
Roundness  or  Broadness,  Sharpness  or  Narrowness,  and  Length — 
Indicative  Respectively  of  the  Vital,  the  Mental,  and  the  Motive 
Temperaments — Correlation  between  these  and  the  Tendencies 
of  Outline  already  Considered — The  Forms  Necessitated  by  the 
Physiological  Conditions  Underlying  the  Three — The  Vital  and 


XVI 


CONTENTS. 


Breadth  of  Form — The  Mental  or  Interpretive  and  Sharpness  at 
the  Extremities — Connection  between  the  Vital  and  Mental  as 
Indicated  by  Length — The  Motive  or  Active  and  Length  of  Spine 
and  Muscles — The  Same  Shapes  as  Interpreted  According  to  the 
Observations  of  Phrenology — Of  Physiognomy — The  Round  Face — 

The  Sharp  Face — The  Long  Face — Of  Palmistry — Different 
Temperaments  are  Usually  Blended  in  All  Men — Mental  Tenden- 
cies Corresponding  to  All  the  Temperaments  Exist  in  Each — How 
They  are  Manifested  by  the  Torso  and  Lower  Limbs — By  the 
Hands  and  Head — In  Connection  with  Activity. 

VIII. 

Representation  Through  the  Postures  of  the 

Human  Body:  General  Principles  . . 1 25-140 

Three  Divisions  of  the  Subject,  namely,  the  Sources,  Directions, 
and  Forms  of  the  Movements — The  Vital  or  Physical  Sources  of 
Movements  Show  that  the  Vital  Tendency  Leads  to  Instinctive, 
Unconscious,  Unpremeditated  Expression — The  Mental  Tendency 
to  Reflective,  Conscious,  and  Premeditated  Expression — The 
Motive,  Emotive,  or  Moral  Tendency  to  a Combination  of  the  Two 
Forms  of  Expression — The  Mental  or  Interpretive  Directions  of 
the  Movements  Show  that  Vital  Expressions  Move  away  from  the 
Body — Mental  Expressions  Move  toward  it — Motive  Expressions 
are  in  Combinations  of  the  Other  Two,  as  when  Alternating  or 
Oblique — Delsarte’s  Theories — The  Active  Effects  of  the  Move- 
ments are,  in  the  Case  of  Vital  Expression,  Free,  Graceful,  and 
Round — Of  Mental  Expression,  Constrained,  Awkward,  Straight 
— Of  Motive  Expression  in  Action  Covering  Much  Space,  hence 
Long — If  Very  Emotive,  Varied  and  Angular — If  Moral,  Tense 
and  Rigid — How  the  Actor’s  and  Orator’s  Movements  Combine 
Curvature  and  Straightness,  Grace  and  Strength. 

IX. 

Representation  Through  Particular  Gestures 

of  the  Torso  and  Limbs.  . . . 141-164 

Complex  Nature  of  the  Subjects  to  be  Treated  and  the  Order  in 
which  they  will  be  Considered — Different  Parts  of  the  Body  as  Im- 
parting a Peculiar  Phase  to  Emphasis — Vital  verst/s  Mental  Move- 


CONTENTS. 


XVII 


merits  of  the  Body  in  General  Illustrating  this  : Those  Mainly 
Physical  of  the  Lower  Torso — Of  the  Lower  Limbs — Mainly 
Mental  of  the  Hands  and  Plead  with  Upper  Torso — Mainly 
Emotive  of  the  Upper  Torso  with  Shoulders  and  Arms — Mental  or 
Interpretive  Movements  of  the  Hands — The  Place  in  the  Physical 
Sphere  in  which  the  Hand  is  Held  : Horizontal  Extension — 

Vertical,  Downward,  and  Upward  Extension- — Meaning  of  Gestures 
as  Determined  by  their  Physical  Relations,  as  About,  Below,  or 
Above  the  Breast — Indicative  not  of  Actual  so  much  as  Conceived 
Relations — Interpretive  Shapes  Assumed  by  the  Hand — Physical 
Suggestions  of  the  Fist — Mental  of  the  Fingers — Emotive  of  the 
Palm — Closing  Gesture  with  Averted  Palm — Opening  Gesture  with 
the  Opposite — Motive  Expression  in  the  Methods  of  Managing  the 
Arms — Movement  From  and  Toward  the  Body  and  in  Both 
Ways. 

X. 

Representation  Through  Positions  and  Move- 
ments of  the  Head  and  Face  . . . 165-191 

Correspondences  between  Gestures  of  the  Head  and  of  the  Rest  of 
the  Body — Physical  Movements  of  the  Head  Toward  or  From 
Objects  or  Persons,  Directly,  Sideward,  or  Obliquely— Phases  of 
Mentality  Suggested  by  its  Different  Parts — Illustrations  of  how 
these  Parts  Operate  in  Connection  with  the  Movements — Compli- 
cated Nature  of  Expression  by  Movements  of  the  Head,  Eyes, 
and  Facial  Muscles — Meaning  of  Movements  or  Positions  of  the 
Head  Forward  with  the  Eyes  Looking  on  a Level — With  the  Eyes 
Looking  Downward — Or  Upward — Meaning  of  Movements  or 
Positions  of  the  Head  Backward  with  the  Eyes  Looking  on  a 
Level — With  the  Eyes  Looking  Downward — Or  Upward — Mean- 
ing of  Normal  Positions  of  the  Head — Difficulty  of  Distinguish- 
ing between  these  Different  Movements  or  Positions — Facial 
Expression  Corresponding  to  Shapes  Assumed  by  the  Fingers  in 
Hand  Gestures — Rigid  Physical  Effects  like  those  of  the  Fist  with 
Mouth,  Brows,  and  Nose — Mental  Effects  of  Concentration,  like 
those  of  the  Finger — Emotive  Effects  as  in  the  Closing  and  Open- 
ing Gestures,  Through  Using  Muscles  of  the  Mouth — The  Eye- 
brows — The  Eyes — The  Nostrils — Outline  Diagrams  of  Different 
Effects  — Comic  Effects. 


xvni 


CONTENTS. 


XI. 

p/ 

Representation  by  Means  of  Color  . . . 192-2 

Correspondence  between  the  Effects  of  Tone  in  Sounds  and  of 
Color  in  Scenes — Mental  Effects  of  Different  Degrees  of  Light — 
Instinctive,  Reflective,  and  Emotive  Effects — Effects  of  Pitch  and 
Quality  in  Color,  as  in  Sound,  very  Closely  Allied — Representative 
Effects  of  Different  Qualities  of  Tone — Their  Correspondences  in 
Colors — Cold  Colors  and  Normal  or  Pure  Tones  as  Instinctive — 
Warm  Colors  and  Orotund  Tones  as  Reflective — Varied  Colors  as 
Emotive — Confirmation  of  these  Correspondences  from  Facts  of 
Experience — From  the  Use  of  Color  in  Painting — Especially  the 
Human  Countenance — In  Sculpture — In  Architecture — Represen- 
tation of  Natural  Effects  of  Distance  through  Cold  and  Warm 
Colors  in  Painting — In  Architecture — Correspondence  between  the 
Effects  of  Mixed  Tones  and  Colors — Representative  Influence  of 
Black — With  Cold  Colors — With  Warm  Colors — Of  White  with 
Cold  Colors — With  Warm  Colors — Further  Illustrations — Conclu- 
sion. 


XII. 

The  Development  of  Representation  in  Paint- 
ing and  Sculpture  .....  213-2 

Connection  between  what  is  to  Follow  and  what  has  Preceded — 
How  Poetry  and  Music  are  Developed  from  Language  and  Intona- 
tion— Analogous  Methods  as  Exemplified  in  Painting,  Sculpture, 
and  Architecture — Prehistoric  Pictorial  Art — Representing  External 
Appearances  not  only,  but  Mind — Earliest  Art  of  a Historic  Period 
— Picture  Writing — Hieroglyphic  Writing — Description  of — Art  as 
Distinguished  from  Writing  in  Egypt — In  Greece — Early  Represen- 
tation of  Ideas  and  Later  of  Natural  Appearances  only — Symbolism 
of  Early  Christian  Art  and  Naturalism  of  Later  Art — Ideas  and 
Nature  as  Represented  at  the  Renaissance  and  at  Present — Possi- 
bility of  Two  Opposing  Tendencies — Justification  for  each  of  them 
— Yet  need  not  Exclude  each  other — So  far  as  Exclusive  each  is 
Detrimental — Practical  Application  of  these  Facts  to  Present 
Conditions — The  Yellow  Book — American  Illustrated  Magazines — 
Importance  of  the  Subject. 


CONTENTS. 


XIX 


XIII. 

PAGE 

Representation  of  Mental  Conceptions  in 

Painting  and  Sculpture  ....  239-253 

Our  Interest  in  Objects  of  Sight  is  Influenced  by  their  Effects 
upon  our  Thoughts  and  Emotions — Bearing  of  this  Fact  upon 
Representation  in  Painting  and  Sculpture — Bearing  of  the  Same 
upon  the  Use  of  the  Term,  The  Humanities — Practical  Reasons 
for  Disregarding  the  Importance  of  Significance — Attention  to 
Significance  not  Inconsistent  with  Equal  Attention  Given  to  Form 
— Nor  Attention  to  Form  with  Attention  to  Significance — Theo- 
retical Reasons  for  Disregarding  the  Importance  of  Significance  : 
Lessing’s  Theory — The  Truth  of  this  not  Denied  in  these  Essays — 

The  Real  Meaning  of  his  Theory — The  Principle  Underlying  it — 

The  Reasons  Underlying  this  Principle — Pictures  that  are  not  Able 
to  Interpret  themselves — When  a Picture  is  truly  Literary — Illustra- 
tions— Events,  though  they  should  not  be  Detailed  in  Pictures,  may 
be  Suggested. 

XIV. 

Forms  of  Painting  Interpretive  of  their  Own 

Significance  .......  254-279 

The  Possibility  of  Significance  and  the  Need  of  Explanation — 
Quantity  and  Quality  of  Significance  as  Determining  Artistic  Ex- 
cellence— Subjects  as  Determining  the  Rank  of  Products — 
Execution  as  Determining  the  Same — Flowers  and  Fruit — How 
made  Representative  of  Significance — Landscapes — How  made 
Representative  of  Significance — How  still  more  of  the  Human 
Element  may  be  Introduced — Other  Examples — Figures  and  Faces 
of  Men — Portraits — Characteristic  Portraiture — Representative  of 
the  Artist’s  Thought  and  Emotion — Ideal  Portraiture — Genre 
Paintings — -Symbolical,  Allegorical,  and  Mythological  Paintings — 
Historical  Paintings — Examples. 

XV. 

Forms  of  Sculpture  Interpretive  of  their 
Own  Significance  : the  Function  of  Ex- 
planations .......  280-290 

Differences  between  the  Subjects  of  Painting  and  Sculpture- — 
Portraiture  in  Sculpture — Poetic  Description  of  the  Dying  Gladiator 


XX 


CONTENTS. 


— The  Laocoon — Symbolic,  Allegoric,  Religious,  Mythologic,  and 
Historic  Sculpture — Verbal  Explanations  as  an  Aid  to  Artistic 
Effect — Have  the  Same  Relation  to  Painting  and  Sculpture  as  to 
Music — The  Interest  and  Attractiveness  of  Things  Seen  is  Increased 
by  our  Knowledge  with  Reference  to  them — The  Same  Principle 
Applies  to  Things  Depicted  in  Art. 

XVI. 

Representation  of  Material  Appearances  in 

Painting  and  Sculpture  ....  291-310 

Form  Comes  to  be  Developed  for  its  own  Sake — To  Appreciate 
Art,  we  should  Know  the  Technical  Aims  of  the  Artist — Books  on 
the  Subject — Elements  of  Correct  Technique — Lineal  Representa- 
tion of  Light  and  Shade — Of  Shape  and  Texture — Of  Distance 
and  Perspective — “ Classic  ” and  “ Romantic”  Lines — Distinctness 
and  Indistinctness  of  Line — Laws  of  Perspective — Lineal  Represen- 
tation of  Life  and  Movement — Reason  for  Apparent  Lack  of 
Accuracy — Same  Principles  Apply  to  Sculpture — Elements  of 
Correct  Coloring — Ignorance  of  Early  Colorists — Value — Origin 
of  the  Term — Color — -Representation  of  Light  and  Shade — Of 
Shape  and  Texture — Of  Distance  or  Aerial  Perspective — Of  Life 
and  Movement — Conclusion. 


XVII. 

The  Development  of  Representation  in  Archi- 
tecture ........  311-321 

Modes  of  Expression  in  Architecture  and  Music  as  Contrasted 
with  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Poetry — The  Germs  of  Music  and 
Architecture  Antedate  those  of  the  Other  Arts,  but  are 
Artistically  Developed  Later — Music  Develops  through  Poetry, 
and  Architecture  is  Hut-Building  Made  Picturesque  and  Stat- 
uesque— Early  Attempts  to  Make  Useful  Buildings  Ornamental — 
Examples — Influences  of  the  Play-Impulse  upon  All  Forms  of 
Construction — Illustration  of  its  Effects  upon  a House — These 
Effects  Represent  both  Mental  and  Material  Conditions — Facts 
Evincing  this — Such  Effects  as  Enhancing  the  Interest. 


CONTENTS. 


XXI 


XVIII. 

PAGE 

Architectural  Representation  of  Mental 

Conceptions:  Foundations  and  Walls  . 322-352 

Representation  of  the  Constructive  Idea  in  the  Foundation — The 
Side  Walls — Pillars,  Buttresses,  Pilasters,  String-Courses — Effects 
of  Satisfaction  and  Repose  versus  those  of  Insecurity  in  Support 
Afforded  by  Pillars — Arches — Brackets — Important  for  the  Appa- 
rent Support  to  be  the  Real  Support — Heavy  Cupolas  and 
Ventilators — Unrepresentative  Pediments — The  Purpose  of  a 
Building  as  Determining  its  General  Plan — As  Determining  its 
Interior  Arrangements — As  Determining  its  Exterior  Appearance — 
Representative  of  the  Interior  Plan  through  the  Exterior — Appear- 
ances of  Five  Cottages  Contrasted— The  Same  Principle  Applied 
to  Other  Buildings,  Street  Fronts,  Palaces — Colleges — Porches. 

XIX. 

Architectural  Representation  of  Mental  Con- 
ceptions— Roofs  ......  353-371 

Domes — False  Domes — Useless  Cupolas,  Pinnacles,  Towers, 
Spires — The  Same  Used  as  Memorials — Even  these  should  be 
Artistic  and  so  Representative — This  Principle  as  Applied  to  Spires 
and  Towers — The  Roof  Proper — Rounded  Roofs — Roofs  as  too 
Large  and  too  Small  or  Invisible — Gutters  and  Cornices,  Plain  and 
Castellated — Balustrades  as  Representing  Flat  Roofs — Visible  Roofs 
in  City  Streets — Paris  Streets  and  the  Court  of  Honor  at  the 
Columbian  Exhibition — Streets  in  New  York — Objections  to  High 
Buildings — Legislative  Methods  of  Preventing  them — ^Esthetic 
Regulations  about  Sky-line,  Color,  and  Style — The  Sky-line  and 
Mansard  Roof. 

XX. 

Architectural  Representation  of  Material 

Surroundings  ......  372-396 

Object  of  the  Present  Chapter — Architecture  Involves  more  than 
Natural  Arrangements  for  Shelter — But  is  Developed  from  these — 
Rendered  more  Representative — Primitive  Huts  as  Developed 
into  the  Temples  on  the  Acropolis — Primitive  Tents  as  Developed 


XXI 1 


CONTENTS. 


into  the  Oriental  Temples — Primitive  Rounded  and  Pointed  Arches, 
Domes,  and  Spires, — This  Imitation  sometimes  Conscious,  some- 
times Unconscious — Development  of  Styles  Based  on  Straight 
Lines,  Curves,  and  Angles — Criticism  on  the  Views  of  Helmholtz 
— The  Principles  of  Correspondence  as  PTilfilled  in  Architectural 
Forms — Suggestive  and  Imitative  Representation  as  Fulfilled  in  it 
and  in  other  Arts — Architectural  Examples. 

XXI. 

Architectural  Representation  of  Material 

Surroundings  Continued  ....  397-408 

The  Order  of  Representative  Development  in  Architecture — Styles 
Imitating  Appearances  in  Nature — Testimony  of  Facts — Applied  to 
Interiors  and  Exteriors — Developments  of  the  Imitative  in  the 
other  Arts — Possibilities  of  its  Development  in  Architecture- 
New  Uses  of  Metals — The  Development  of  the  Tendency  might 
not  Improve  the  Art — Would  Necessitate  the  Exercise  of  Genius — 
What  are  Valid  Arguments  against  such  Developments — Sincerity 
in  the  Use  of  Material,  Natural  Woods,  etc. — Use  of  Material 
Natural  to  a Locality — Conclusion. 


Index  . 


4 09 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

1.  Farnese  Hercules  by  Glycon  the  Athenian  ...  20 

From  Mitchell’s  44  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  21,  24, 

26,  281. 

2.  Flying  Mercury  by  Giovanni  da  Bologna  ...  21 

From.  Viardot’s  44  Wonders  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  21,  25, 

26,  62,  73,  135,  152. 

3.  Melrose  Abbey .24 

From  Fergusson’s  44  History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  25, 

26,  32,  34,  203,  322,  380,  3Q0. 

4.  Interior  of  a Church  Near  Kostroma,  Russia  ...  25 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  25,  26,  32,  34. 

5.  Piankhi  Receiving  the  Submission  of  Namrut  and  Others,  27 

From  Rawlinson’s  44  Ancient  Egypt.”  Mentioned  on  pages  27,  50,  222. 

6.  Heracles,  Triton,  and  Nereids,  from  Doric  Temple  at 

Assos 27 

From  C.  E.  Clement’s  44  Outline  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  27,  222. 

7.  Henry  II.  Receiving  from  God  the  Crown,  etc.  . , ■ 29 

From  Baring-Gould’s  44  Germany.”  Mentioned  on  page  27. 

8.  Pollice  Verso,  by  Gerome 31 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  28,  34,  91,  274,  287,  295. 

9.  A Scene  in  the  Woods 33 

From  Cassell’s  44  Sunlight  and  Shade.”  Mentioned  on  pages  32,  73,  399. 

10.  Egyptian  Lotus-Leaf  Capital  from  Edfu  ....  34 

From  Lubke’s  44  History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  32,  394,  398. 

11.  Ancient  Corinthian  Capital  34 

From  Fergusson’s  44  History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  32, 

380,  398. 

12.  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac’s,  St.  Petersburg  35 

From  Cassell’s  44  All  the  Russias.”  Mentioned  on  pages  34,  36,  38,  42,  52, 

82,  352,  353,  356,  380. 

13.  House  of  Parliament,  England 36 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  34,  38,  42,  52,  322,  358,  380. 

14.  Temple  of  Theseus,  Athens 36 

From  Lubke’s  44  History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  34,  35,  38,  42,  52, 

84,  86,  322,  323,  380,  386,  387,  389. 

15.  St.  Mark’s,  Venice  . 37 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  36,  38,  42,  52,  78,  82,  86,  380. 

xxiii 


XXIV 


ILLUSTRA  TIONS. 


PAGE 

16.  Light  and  Shade,  by  Walter  Crane 41 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  41,  44,  46, 

294,  30 7. 

17.  Lines  Expressive  of  Storm,  by  Walter  Crane  ...  43 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  44,  66,  72,  259. 

18.  Lines  Expressive  of  Repose,  by  Walter  Crane  ...  45 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  44,  70,  73,  90,  92,  95,  259. 

19.  Pallas  of  Velletri 47 

From  Viardot’s  “ Wonders  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  49,  76,  281. 

20.  Apollo  Sauroctonos,  by  Praxiteles  .....  48 

From  Cassell’s  “ Gods  of  Olympus.”  Mentioned  on  pages  49,  61,  76,  136, 

223,  281. 

21.  The  Laocoon  Group 49 

From  C.  E.  Clement’s  “ Outline  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  49,  77,  174,  223,  281,  284,  285. 

22.  Group  from  the  Mausoleum  of  Maria  Christina,  by  Canova, 

at  Vienna 50 

From  Viardot’s  “Wonders  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  50,  73, 

263,  286. 

23.  The  Soldier’s  Return.  Relief  on  National  Monument 

near  Bingen  on  the  Rhine 51 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  50,  286,  302. 

24.  Old  South  Church,  Boston,  Mass 52 

From  Cassell’s  “ The  World  and  its  Cities  and  People.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  35,  54,  84,  331,  380. 

25.  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  Mass 53 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  35,  54,  84,  323,  334,  380. 

26.  Figure  from  the  Nausica,  by  E.  J.  Poynter  6o 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  61,  72, 129,  130, 133. 

27.  Pedant’s  Proposition  of  Marriage,  from  Etching  by 

Daniel  Chodowieck 61 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  61,  138,  147,  160,  161,  169,  175. 

28.  The  Apollo  Belvedere 62 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  138,  147,  149, 

151,  224,  281. 

29.  Author  and  Critics,  by  H.  Stacy  Marks,  R.A.  ...  63 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  151,  152  156, 

I72»  !73>  *77- 

30.  Lines  Illustrative  of  Action,  by  Walter  Crane  . . 64 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  72. 

31.  An  Attack 65 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  145, 

167,  171. 

32.  Tissington  Spires,  England 67 

From  Cassell’s  “ Our  Own  Country.”  Mentioned  on  pages  65,  66,  70,  72, 

259i  399- 

33.  Repose  in  Landscape  and  Figure,  by  Walter  Crane  . . 69 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  70,  73,  90,  92,  259. 


ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 


XXV 


34.  The  Aurora,  by  Guido 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  61,  72,  136,  265,  272. 

35.  The  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  by  Paul  Veronesi  . 

From  Lubke’s  44  History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  73,  174,  263,  276. 

36.  The  Rape  of  the  Sabines,  by  N.  Poussin  . 

From  a drawing  from  Scribner’s  “ Cyclopedia  of  Painters  and  Painting.” 
Mentioned  on  pages  46,  75,  87. 

37.  Athena  of  the  Capitol 

From  C.  E.  Clement’s  41  Outline  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  76,  224,  281. 

38.  Venus  de’  Medici 

From  Mitchell’s  44  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  76,  138, 
142,  223,  225,  281. 

39.  The  Death  of  Ananias — Cartoon  by  Raphael 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  61,  62,  77,  137,  140,  145,  147, 
156,  158,  161,  167,  170,  177,  178,  226,  287. 

40.  Old  Pictures  of  St.  Sophia,  Constantinople 

From  Lane-Poole’s  44  Turkey.”  Mentioned  on  pages  78,  82,  86,  380. 

41.  Cologne  Cathedral  ........ 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  35,  52,  78,  82,  84,  86,  323, 
380,  405. 

42.  The  Russian  Church,  Paris 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Modern  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  82,  84,  86,  323. 

43.  Interior  of  Beverley  Minster,  England  . 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  32,  82,  84,  380,  388,  399,  405. 

44.  Avenue  of  Palms  at  Rio-de-Janeiro 

From  Cassell’s  44  Countries  of  the  World.”  Mentioned  on  pages,  32,  73, 
84,  399*  403- 

45.  Japanese  Compositions 

From  Kotsugaro  Yenouge’s  44  Fine  Art  Pictures.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
90,  93- 

46.  Human  Figure  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines 

Drawn  over  an  illustration  from  Putnam’s  44  Art  Hand-Book  of  Figure 
Drawing.”  Mentioned  on  pages  90,  97,  98. 

47.  Front  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  . 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  90,  97,  98,  101. 

48.  Side  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  90,  97,  98. 

49.  Eye  and  Ear  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  90,  97. 

50.  Mephistopheles  ......... 

From  Well’s  44  New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  100,  118,  170, 
176,  178. 

51.  Face  Expressive  of  Contempt  and  Anger  . 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  ioo,  118,  181,  182,  183,  184, 185,  189. 

52.  Laughing  and  Smiling  Face 

From  Cassell's  Magazine  0/  A rt.  Mentioned  on  pages  100,  183,  184. 


PAGE 

71 

72 

75 

76 

77 

79 

80 

81 

83 

84 

85 

93 

96 

97 

97 

98 

99 

99 

100 


XXVI 


ILL  US  TRA  TIONS. 


PAGE 

53.  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  . . . .101 

Drawn  over  a photograph  from  Dramatic  Mirror.  Mentioned  on  page 
101. 

54.  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  ....  102 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  ioi. 

55.  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  ....  102 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  ioi. 

56.  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  ....  103 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  ioi. 

57.  Face  Proportionately  Divided  by  Lines  ....  103 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  ioi. 

58.  St.  Michael  Overcoming  Satan,  by  Raphael  . . . 104 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  103,  145,  168. 

59.  Goldsmith  . . . 109 

From  Well’s  “New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  109,  113,  115, 

117,  119,  124,  187. 

60.  Longfellow 109 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  109,  113,  115,  117,  119,  124. 

61.  Phrenologically  Divided  Mead 115 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  115,  124,  167. 

62.  Yankee  Sullivan 115 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  115,  119,  124. 

63.  Napoleon  Bonaparte 116 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  115,  118,  119,  120,  124,  169,  177,  179. 

64.  Albert  Barnes 117 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  115,  117,  118,  124,  182. 

65.  Broad  Hand  and  Round  Fingers 120 

From  a photograph  of  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  pages  121,  123. 

66.  Sharp  Hand  and  Angular  Fingers  . . . . 121 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  121,  123. 

67.  Long  Hand  and  Spatulated  Fingers 122 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  121,  123. 

68.  Drowning  Man 128 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  page  129. 

69.  Reflection 129 

From  a drawing  by  Maud  Stumm.  Mentioned  on  pages  129,  142, 156,  162. 

70.  Stern’s  Maria,  Painted  by  Wright  of  Derby  . . . 131 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  129,  142, 156,  168. 

71.  Upward  Closing  Gesture 132 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  pages  145,  152, 

156,  161. 

72.  Side  Closing  Gesture 1:32 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  140,  156,  158. 

73.  Oblique  Forward  Movement 132 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  130,  137,  145,  148,  167,  172,  175. 


ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 


XXVll 


74.  Oblique  Backward  Movement 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  130,  145,  148,  158.  167. 

75.  Downward  Closing  Gesture 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  134,  136,  140,  156,  158. 

76.  Closing  Finger  Gesture  Sideward 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  134,  136,  156,  158,  159. 

77.  Angular  Argumentative  Movements 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  134. 

78.  Dancing  Movements 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  130,  135,  142. 

79.  A New  Guinea  Chief 

From  Cassell’s  “Picturesque  Australia.”  Mentioned  on  pages  136,  138. 

80.  The  Woman  Taken  in  Adultery,  by  N.  Poussin  . 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  A rt.  Mentioned  on  pages  129, 140, 155,  158, 
161,  168,  174,  186,  276,  287. 

81.  Discomfort  in  the  Abdomen 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  pages  142,  162. 

82.  The  Resurrection,  by  T.  Nelson  MacLean  . 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  140, 142, 147, 151, 
152,  160,  161,  162,  167,  174,  286. 

83.  The  Faun  of  Praxiteles 

From  Lubke’s  “History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  61,  144,  147,  282. 

84.  Body  Prolonged  for  Moral  Effect 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  pages  62,  138, 
145,  152. 

85.  Expression  with  the  Foot 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  130,  145. 

86.  Expression  with  the  Foot  and  Leg 

From  the  some.  Mentioned  on  page  145. 

87.  Expression  with  the  Foot  and  Knee 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  146. 

88.  Expression  with  the  Hips  . 

* From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  138,  147. 

89.  Walking  with  Breast  and  Brow  Advanced  . 

From  Well’s  “ New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  145,  147,  148, 
169,  172. 

90.  Walking  with  Face  in  Advance 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  148,  167,  171. 

91.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  147,  148,  151,  162,  169. 

92.  Judas,  Peter,  and  John,  from  the  Last  Supper  of  Leonardo, 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  147,  148,  158 
167,  169,  373,  287. 

93.  Walking  Upright  

From  Well’s  “ New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  149,  169. 


PAGE 

132 

134 

134 

135 

136 

137 
139 

142 

143 

144 

145 

146 
146 

146 

147 

148 

148 

149 

150 

151 


ILL  US  TLA  TIONS. 


xxviii 

PAGE 

94.  Adding  Insult  to  Injury,  by  Gaetano  Chierici  . . . 152 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  151,  156,  263, 

95.  Cain,  by  Giovanni  Dupre 157 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  156,  158,  281. 

96.  Downward  Opening  Gesture 159 

From  a drawing  by  C.  C.  Rosenkranz.  Mentioned  on  pages  156,  160. 

97.  Sideward  Descriptive  Opening  Gesture  ....  159 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  138,  151.  156,  160. 

98.  Upward  Opening  Gesture 160 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  151, 161. 

99.  Boy  Surprised 163 

From  a drawing  by  Maud  Stumm.  Mentioned  on  pages  130,  163,  171. 

100.  Credulity  ..........  167 

From  Well's  “New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  167,  168,  171, 

174- 

101.  Unyielding  Contemplation 169 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  167,  169,  175. 

102.  Amiable  Suspicion 171 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  171,  186. 

103.  Unamiable  Suspicion 171 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  171,  177. 

104.  Thoughtful  Attention 172 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  119,  172,  187. 

105.  Confidence 173 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  172. 

106.  Galileo  . . . . . . . . . . 174 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  173. 

107.  Ambition 174 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  173,  186. 

108.  Hopelessness 174 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  173,  186. 

109.  Apprehensive  Attention 175 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  173. 

no.  Religious  Rapture 175 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  174,  175,  179. 

in.  Unconfiding  Attention 176 

From  the  same  Mentioned  on  pages  175,  176. 

1 1 2.  Unconvinced  Attention 176 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  167,  169,  175,  176,  178,  185. 

1 13.  Despair 176 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  175,  185. 

1 14.  Unconfiding  Pride 177 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  167,  176. 

1 1 5.  Malice 1 77 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  177,  185. 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  xxix 

PAGE 

1 1 6.  Satisfied  Confidence 177 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  177. 

1 1 7.  Impudence 177 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  167,  178. 

118.  Faith 178 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages,  179,  187. 

1 19.  Apprehensive  Astonishment  . . . . . . .179 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  174,  179,  185. 

120.  Triumph  . 179 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  179. 

121 . Rage  and  Fear  . 181 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  179,  181,  184,  186,  189. 

122.  Contemptuous  Rage . 181 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  175,  176,  178,  181,  182,  183,  186, 189. 

123.  Reflection 182 

From  Duval’s  14  Artistic  Anatomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  182,  184,  185, 

186,  188. 

124.  Contempt  and  Discontent 183 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  121,  183,  185,  188. 

125.  Curiosity 184 

From  Well’s  14  New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  183,  184,  187. 

126.  Apprehensive  Grief 184 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  173,  183,  184. 

127.  Laughter  and  Gayety  ........  185 

From  Duval’s  44  Artistic  Anatomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  121,  183,  184, 

185,  187. 

128.  Disappointed  Desire  186 

From  Well’s  44  New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  174,  175,  179, 

183,  184. 

129.  Terror . 1S6 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  173,  183,  184,  185,  188. 

130.  Attention  and  Astonishment 187 

From  Duval’s  44  Artistic  Anatomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  186,  187. 

131.  Sorrow 187 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  185,  186,  188. 

132.  Fear 188 

From  Well’s  44  New  Physiognomy.”  Mentioned  on  pages  178,  185, 

186,  188. 

133.  Astonished  Horror 18S 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  185,  186,  188. 

134  to  136.  De  Superville’s  Diagrams  of  Calmness,  Gayety, 

and  Sadness i8g 

From  Duval’s  44  Artistic  Anatomy.”  Mentioned  on  page  189. 

137  to  139.  Duval’s  Diagrams  of  Reflection,  Laughter,  and 

Sorrow  190 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  189. 


XXX 


ILL  ULTRA  TIONS. 


i4oand  141.  Duval’s  Diagrams  of  Attention,  Astonishment, 
and  Contempt  

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  189. 

142  and  143.  Duval’s  Diagrams  of  Grief  and  Fear 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  189. 

144.  Wells  Cathedral,  England 

From  Cassell’s  “ Our  Own  Country.”  Mentioned  on  pages  203,  380,  405. 

145.  Figure  Carved  in  Stone  Age 

From  Viardot’s  11  Wonders  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  page  216. 

146.  Egyptian  Picture  from  the  “ Book  of  the  Dead  ” 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  2T9,  221,  222. 

147.  Ancient  Egyptian  P'ace  in  British  Museum 

From  Mitchell’s  u History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  203,  222. 

148.  Figures  from  Frieze  of  the  Parthenon  .... 

From  C.  E.  Clement’s  “ Outline  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  223,  225,  281,  282,  396. 

149.  Venus  Leaving  the  Bath  : Capitol  at  Rome 

From  Viardot’s  “Wonders  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  76,  223, 
225,  281,  282. 

150.  Ornamental  Arcade  from  the  Chapel  at  FIolyrood, 

Scotland  ...  

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  page  226. 

151.  The  Girlhood  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  by  Rossetti 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  230,  252,  295. 

152.  A Storm,  by  J.  F.  Millet 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  230,  253,  259,  260,  295,  300. 

153.  Cover  of  the  Catalogue  of  New  York  Water  Color 

Exhibition 

From  the  Critic.  Mentioned  on  pages  232,  234. 

154.  Easter  Advertisement  of  Gorham  Manufacturing  Co. 

From  Gorham  Manufacturing  Co.  Mentioned  on  page  236. 

155.  Relief  from  the  Baptistry  at  Florence  . 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  248,  286,  302. 

156.  The  School  of  Athens,  by  Raphael 

From  a photograph  from  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  201,  248, 
272,  287. 

157.  Jewish  Cemetery,  by  Jacob  Ruysdael 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  page  260. 

158.  Dignity  and  Impudence,  by  Landseer 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  262,  263. 

159.  Statue  of  Nathan  Hale,  by  Macmonnies  . 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  266,  281. 

160.  Card  Players,  by  Caravaggio 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art,”  Mentioned  on  pages  169,  172,  270. 


PAGE 

I90 

190 

205 

215 

219 

221 

223 

224 

227 

229 

231 

233 

235 

247 

249 

261 

263 

267 

27I 


ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 


XXXI 


PAGE 

161.  A Summer  Evening,  by  Van  Beers 273 

From  a photograph,  with  permission  of  C.  T.  Yerkes.  Mentioned  on 
pages  270,  271. 

162.  The  Dream,  by  Detaille 275 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  A rt.  Mentioned  on  page  272. 

163.  The  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by  Rubens  ....  277 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  202,  276,  287. 

164.  The  Sacrifice  at  Lystra,  by  Raphael  . ....  279 

From  Lubke’s  u History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  158,  276,  287. 

165.  Titus — Statue  from  the  Louvre 282 

From  Muller’s  “ Denkmaler  der  Alten  Kunst.”Mentioned  page  281. 

166.  The  Dying  Galatian  (or  Gladiator)  .....  283 

From  Well’s  “ New  Physiognomy.  Mentioned  on  pages  282,  283. 

167.  Treatment  of  Design  in  Relief,  by  W.  Crane  . . . 293 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  Art.  Mentioned  on  pages  44,  46,  294,  307. 

168.  Effects  of  Distance  on  Magnitude,  Light,  Contrast, 

and  Detail 297 

From  J.  W.  Stimson’s  ” Principles  and  Methods  in  Art  Education.” 
Mentioned  on  pages  28,  91,  206,  294,  296,  298,  304,  306,  308. 

169.  Leaving  for  Work,  by  J.  F.  Millet 299 

From  Cassell’s  Magazine  of  A rt.  Mentioned  on  pages  295,  300. 

170.  Tomb  of  Giuliano  de’Medici,  with  Figures  of  Night  and 

Day,  by  Angelo  301 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  50,  301,  302. 

171.  Rock  Tomb  at  Myra  in  Lycia 315 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  315,  316,  375,  376,  387,  397,  403,  407. 

172.  Cave  of  Elephanta,  India 317 

From  a water-color.  Mentioned  on  pages  315,  316,  375,  376,  389,  407. 

173.  Development  of  Architectural  Features  ....  319 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  52, 

318,  319,  323,  343,  344,  360,  380. 

174.  Houses  at  Morlaix,  France 324 

From  Cassell's  “A  Ramble  Around  France.”  Mentioned  on  page  323. 

175.  The  Starschina’s  House,  Eastern  Russia  ....  325 

From  Cassell’s  “ All  the  Russias.”  Mentionedon  pages  323,  358,  403,  408. 

176.  Valmarina  Palace,  Vicenza,  Italy 326 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Modern  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  324,  348,  358,  380. 

177.  Exeter  Hall 327 

From  a photograph  of  a drawing  by  H.  A.  Harris.  Mentioned  on  pages 
326,  330,  336. 

178.  An  American  Church 328 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Modern  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  327,  330,  355. 

179.  Main  Building,  University  of  Pennsylvania  . . . 329 

From  Cassell’s  “ The  World,  Its  Cities  and  Peoples.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  327,  331,  355,  371. 


XXXI 1 


ILL  US  TRA  TIONS. 


PAGE 

180.  High  School  Tower  ........  330 

From  a photograph  of  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  pages  327,  330. 

1S1.  Support  of  a Church  Roof . 331 

From  a photograph  of  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  pages  329,  330. 

182.  Decoration  of  a Church  Ceiling 332 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  page  330. 

183.  Normal  School,  Cfiristcherd,  New  Zealand  . . . 333 

From  Cassell’s  “ Picturesque  Australia.”  Mentioned  on  pages  331,  332, 

355,  358,  359- 

184.  Elevation  of  Proposed  Albany  Cathedral — Richardson,  335 

From  the  New  Ejigland  Magazine.  Mentioned  on  pages  334,  378,  380. 

185.  Cottage  at  Chiddingfold,  England  .....  338 

From  R.  Nevill’s  11  Old  Cottage  and  Domestic  Architecture.”  Mentioned 
on  pages  54,  337,  339,  358. 

186.  Cottage  at  Sandhills,  England  . . . . . . 339 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  page  338. 

187.  Cottage  at  Tuesley,  England  ......  340 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  323,  339,  358. 

188.  Inn  at  Chiddingfold,  England 341 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  340,  358,  359. 

189.  Unsted  Farm,  England  .......  342 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  323,  341,  358. 

190.  Marien  Platz,  Munich 343 

From  Cassell’s  ” Chats  About  Germany.”  Mentioned  on  pages  54,  344, 

360,  380. 

191.  Unter  den  Linden,  Berlin 344 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  344,  360,  364. 

192.  Boulevard,  St.  Michael,  Paris 345 

From  Cassell’s  “ Paris.”  Mentioned  on  pages  84,  344,  363,  364,  370,  380. 

193.  Street  and  Belfry  at  Ghent 346 

From  Cassell’s  “ The  World,  Its  Cities  and  Peoples.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  344,  362,  380. 

194.  Strozzi  Palace,  Florence 347 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  346,  347,  359,  360. 

195.  Chenonceau  Chateau,  France  ......  348 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  346,  347,  352,  378. 

196.  Pavilion  of  Richelieu,  Louvre,  Paris  ....  349 

From  Cassell’s  ” The  World,  its  Cities  and  Peoples.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  52,  348,  358,  359,  380. 

197.  Queen’s  College,  Galway  .......  350 

From  Cassell’s  “ Our  Own  Country.”  Mentioned  on  pages  84,  349,  355, 

359,  36o>  380. 

198.  University  at  Sydney,  Australia  .....  351 

From  Cassell’s  "Picturesque  Australia.”  Mentioned  on  pages  84,  324, 

349,  352,  355,  359,  36°,  362,  3^9,  380. 


ILL  US  TRA  TIONS. 


XXX111 


PAGE 

igg.  Schiller  Platz,  Berlin  354 

From  Cassell’s  “ Chats  About  Germany.”  Mentioned  on  pages  354,  357, 

380. 

200.  Mediaeval  Castle  360 

From  Cassell's  u Land  of  Temples.”  Mentioned  on  page  360. 

201.  Madison  Avenue,  New  York 361 

From  Munsey' s Magazine.  Mentioned  on  pages  334,  360,  364,  380. 

202.  Trinity  School,  New  York 363 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  323,  362,  369. 

203.  Court  of  Honor,  Columbian  Exhibition,  Chicago  . . 365 

From  Cosmopolitan  Magazine.  Mentioned  on  pages  84,  203,  363,  364,  380. 

204.  Walker  Museum,  Chicago  University  ....  367 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  369,  380. 

205.  Ryerson  Physical  Laboratory,  Chicago  University  . 368 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  369,  380. 

206.  Public  Schools,  Oxford,  England 369 

From  a photograph  of  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  360,  369,  380. 

207.  Bedford  Building,  Boston  370 

From  the  New  England  Magazine.  Mentioned  on  pages  323,  371,  380. 

208.  Chiefs’  Houses,  Kerepuna,  Australia  ....  374 

From  Cassell’s  “ Picturesque  Australia.”  Mentioned  on  pages  80,  375, 

376,  378,  386,  397- 

209.  Restoration  of  the  West  End  of  the  Acropolis,  Athens,  375 

From  White’s  ” Plutarch.”  Mentioned  on  pages  376,  380,  386,  387,  397,  407. 

210.  Tent  of  Eastern  Asia 376 

From  Cassell’s  “Across  Thibet.”  Mentioned  on  pages  376,  386. 

21 1 . Winter  Palace,  Pekin 377 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Indian  and  Eastern  Architecture.”  Men- 
tioned on  pages  358,  376,  380,  386. 

212.  Hottentot  Krall 379 

From  Cassell’s  “ The  World,  its  Cities  and  its  Peoples.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  80,  377,  384. 

213.  Kaffir  Station,  Africa 381 

From  Cassell’s  “ Races  of  Mankind.”  Mentioned  on  pages  377,  378,  384. 

214.  Negro  Huts,  Iyourounding  Koto,  Soudan  . . . 383 

From  Cassell’s  “ The  World,  its  Cities  and  its  Peoples.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  80,  378,  384. 

215.  Greek  Doric  Temple  of  yEGiNA 387 

From  Fergusson's  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  380, 

389,  396. 

216.  Greek  Ionic  Order 388 

From  Cassell’s  ” Manual  of  Greek  Archaeology.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
380,  389. 

217.  Antefix  of  Marble  from  Temple  of  /Egina  . . . 389 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  389,  398. 

218.  Doorway  of  Troitzka  Monastery,  Russia  ....  390 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  380, 

388,  390. 


XXXIV 


ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 


PAGE 

219.  Interior  of  San  Vitale,  Ravenna 391 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  380,  390. 

220.  Choir  of  Ely  Cathedral,  England  . 392 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  78,  380,  390,  40s. 

221.  Portal  at  Persepolis,  Persia 393 

From  photograph  of  an  Engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  393,  398. 

222.  Acroterium  and  Gutter,  Temple  of  ALgin a . . . 393 

From  Cassell’s  11  Manual  of  Greek  Archaeology.1’  Mentioned  on  pages 
389.  393.  398. 

223.  Egyptian  Hieraco  Sphinx 393 

From  C.  E.  Clement's  “ Outline  History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  393,  398. 

224.  Gargoyle  from  Cologne  Cathedral 394 

Photograph  from  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  393,  394,  398. 

225.  Capital  from  a Tomb  at  Persepolis,  Persia  . . . 394 

Photograph  from  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  394,  398. 

226.  Greek  Corinthian  Capital  .......  394 

From  Cassell’s  u Manual  of  Greek  Archaeology.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
380,  387,  396. 

227.  Temple  at  Ipsambool,  Egypt 394 

Photograph  from  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  396,  398. 

228.  Capital  at  Denderah,  Egypt 395 

From  Lubke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  396,  398. 

229.  Giants  from  Temple  of  Agrigentum 395 

From  Mitchell’s  u History  of  Sculpture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  396,  398. 

230.  Capital  from  Cathedral  at  Rheims 395 

From  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  390, 

396,  398- 

231.  Corbel  from  Cathedral  at  Rheims 396 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  38,  390,  396,  398. 

232.  Temple  at  Buddha  Gaya,  India 400 

From  Fergusson’s  “ Indian  and  Eastern  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  380,  399. 

233.  Temple  at  Mukteswara,  India 401 

From  the  same.  Mentioned  on  pages  380,  399. 

234.  Aisle  of  Henry  VII. ’s  Chapel,  Westminster  Abbey, 

England 404 

From  Fergusson’s  ” History  of  Architecture.”  Mentioned  on  pages  380, 

403,  405. 

The  author  wishes  to  express  his  sense  of  obligation  to  the  various  artists, 
authors,  and  publishers,  to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  kind  permission  to  insert 
in  this  book  such  illustrations  as  are  owned  by  them,  or  protected  by  their 
copyrights,  especially  to  Messrs.  Dodd,  Mead  & Co.,  Fowler  & Wells, 
Charles  Scribners’  Sons,  and  F.  A.  St-okes  & Co.  of  New  York,  Cassell  & Co. 
and  John  Murray  of  London,  and  Ebner  & Seubert  of  Stuttgart. 


PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE 
AS  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS 


XXXV 


PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHI- 
TECTURE AS  REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  REPRE- 
SENTATION IN  THE  ARTS  OF  SOUND  AND  OF  SIGHT. 


The  Higher  Arts  as  All  Representative — Of  Mental  Processes — Of  Mate- 
rial Phenomena — The  Principle  of  Correspondence  by  Way  of  Asso- 
ciation and  Comparison,  as  Applied  to  Language — Representation  by 
Instinctive  Exclamations — By  Reflective  Imitative  Sounds — Poetry  and 
Music  as  Developed  from  these  Two  Methods — Correspondences  by 
Way  of  Association  and  Comparison  in  the  Arts  of  Sight — Differences 
in  the  Ways  in  which  the  Two  are  Recognized  and  Used — The  Instinc- 
tive and  Reflective  Tendencies  as  Respectively  Manifested  in  Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture — The  Emotive  as  a Combination  of  Both 
Tendencies — Illustrated  by  Facts. 


J N the  volume  of  this  series  of  essays  entitled  “ Art  in 
Theory,”  an  endeavor  was  made  to  show  that  art  in 
general  is  nature  made  human,  and  that  art  of  the  highest 
character  is  nature  made  human  in  the  highest  sense. 
It  was  pointed  out  that,  for  this  kind  of  art,  only  such 
forms  of  nature  are  available  as  are  audible  and  visible  ; 
and  that  these  forms  in  such  art  are  well  used  only  when 
made  significant  of  thoughts  and  emotions.  In  accord- 
ance with  this  understanding,  it  was  maintained  that  all 
the  higher  arts  are  representative,  and  this  in  two  senses, 

i 


2 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


—representative  rather  than  presentative  of  the  artist’s 
thought  or  feeling  (“Art  in  Theory,”  pp.  47  to  61),  which 
fact  causes  them  to  be  appropriately  termed  the  humani- 
ties; and  representative  rather  than  imitative  of  that 
which  he  has  taken  from  his  audible  or  visible  environ- 
ment (pages  34  to  46),  which  latter  fact  causes  them  to 
be  appropriately  termed  the  arts  of  form,  i.  e.,  of  appear- 
ance (page  9),  or  aesthetic,  i.  e.,  fitted  to  be  perceived 
(page  102). 

As  justifying  the  first  sense  in  which  the  term  is  used, 
the  reader  was  reminded  that,  as  thoughts  and  emotions 
cannot  be  heard  or  seen  in  themselves,  they  cannot  be 
presented  or  communicated  to  our  fellows  directly.  They 
must  be  represented  indirectly  ; i.e.,  through  the  use  of  a 
medium  differing  from  themselves  in  that  it  can  be  heard 
and  seen.  This  medium  the  mind  must  find  in  material 
nature,  the  sounds  and  sights  of  which  it  can  accept,  imi- 
tate, modify,  and  develop  for  the  purposes  of  expression, 
but  cannot  originate  (pages  3 to  5).  While  saying  this, 
however,  it  was  also  said  that,  among  the  sounds  of 
nature  which  may  be  used  for  artistic  purposes  must 
be  included  any  sounds  whatever,  even  though  trace- 
able to  men.  Their  material  bodies  are  manifestations  of 
material  nature  ; and,  this  being  so,  of  course  the  same 
is  true  of  their  instinctively  used,  and  what  we  may 
term  natural,  as  distinguished  from  artistic,  vocal  utter- 
ances. Among  the  sights  of  nature,  again,  must  be 
included,  for  the  same  reason,  any  visible  movements 
or  constructions  of  men  ; and,  this  being  so,  of  course 
included  among  them  must  be  also  their  instinctively  used 
gestures.  Owing  to  the  imperceptible  character  of  that 
which  is  within  our  minds,  all  outward  expressions  of 
this,  and,  therefore,  all  art,  even  of  the  most  ordinary 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  3 


kind,  must  exemplify  the  principle  of  representation. 
But  the  highest  art  must  do  so  most  emphatically.  This 
is  because  it  must  give  expression  to  processes  of  thought 
and  emotion  of  the  highest,  in  the  sense  of  the  most  subtle, 
quality,  and  as  these  processes  are  the  most  distinctively 
mental,  they  are  the  most  distinctively  different  in  essence 
from  any  material  form  through  which  they  can  be  ex- 
pressed. It  is,  therefore,  particularly  necessary  that  when 
used  as  a vehicle  for  them  the  form  should  manifest  this 
difference  ; and  it  can  do  so  in  the  degree  only  in  which 
it  manifests  clearly  what  is  its  own  nature  as  contrasted 
with  theirs  ; in  other  words,  in  the  degree  only  in  which 
its  representative,  as  contrasted  with  any  possibly  presen- 
tative  character,  is  particularly  emphasized  by  being  made 
particularly  apparent. 

This  statement  suggests  that  there  is  a connection  be- 
tween the  use  in  art  of  the  term  representation,  as  mean- 
ing the  expression  of  thought  and  emotion,  and  its  more 
ordinary  use  in  the  second  sense  mentioned  in  our  opening 
paragraph,  i.  e.,  as  meaning  the  reproduction  of  external 
phenomena.  This  connection  arises  from  the  fact  that 
the  communicative  intention  of  the  forms  of  expression 
can  be  made  particularly  apparent  in  the  degree  only  in 
which  the  imitative  character  of  the  factors  composing 
the  forms — that  is  of  the  sounds  and  sights  of  external 
nature — is  made  apparent.  This  is  the  ground  taken  in 
Chapters  VI.  and  VIII.  of  “Art  in  Theory,”  which  are 
devoted  to  showing  that  the  representation  of  thoughts 
and  emotions  and  of  external  sounds  and  sights  necessarily 
go  together.  An  artificially  shaped  machine,  it  was  said, 
at  once  suggests  the  question,  “What  can  it  do?”  But 
a drawing  or  carving  with  a form  resembling  something 
in  nature  never  suggests  this  question,  but  rather,  “ What 


4 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


did  the  man  who  drew  the  object  think  about  it  or  of  it 
that  he  should  have  made  a copy  it  ? ” 

The  principle  that  renders  it  possible  for  the  forms  of 
art  to  represent,  in  the  senses  just  indicated,  both  mental 
processes  and  material  surroundings  is,  in  general,  that  of 
correspondence.  But,  subordinately,  there  are  two  different, 
though  closely  related,  principles  in  accordance  with 
which  this  correspondence  may  be  manifested.  One  prin- 
ciple— which  is  the  one  mainly  involved  in  the  representa- 
tion of  thoughts  and  emotions — is  that  of  association ; 
the  other,  which  is  mainly  involved  in  the  representation 
of  the  appearances  of  nature,  is  that  of  comparison.  For 
instance,  to  refer  brieffv  to  what  will  show  the  bearings 
of  our  present  discussion  upon  the  whole  subject  of  art,  it 
was  said,  when  speaking,  in  “ Poetry  as  a Representative 
Art,”  of  the  rise  of  language  and  its  subsequent  develop- 
ments in  poetry,  that  the  earliest  sounds  made  by  a babe 
are  instinctive , by  which  is  meant,  as  explained  there,  that 
they  are  allied  in  nature  to  expressions  of  instinct,  due, 
even  in  a rational  being,  to  the  operation  less  of  conscious 
rationality  than  of  natural  forces  vitalizing  all  sentient 
existence.  These  instinctive  sounds,  it  was  said,  seem  to 
be  accepted  as  words  in  fulfilment,  mainly,  of  the  principle 
of  association.  The  child  cries  and  crows  while  the 
mother  hums  and  chuckles,  and  both  understand  each 
other.  They  communicate  through  what  may  be  termed 
ejaculations  or  interjections.  This  kind  of  language  is 
little  above  the  level  of  that  of  the  brutes;  in  fact,  it  is  of 
the  same  nature  as  theirs.  The  sounds  seem  to  have  a 
purely  muscular  or  nervous  origin  ; and  for  this  reason 
may  be  supposed  to  have  no  necessary  connection  with 
any  particular  thought  or  psychic  state  intended  to  be 
expressed  by  them.  Nevertheless,  we  all  understand  the 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  5 


meanings  of  them  when  produced  by  the  lower  animals, 
as  well  as  when  made  by  man.  Everywhere,  certain  ejacu- 
lations are  recognized  to  be  expressive  of  the  general  tenor 
of  certain  feelings,  as  of  pleasure  and  pain,  desire  and 
aversion,  surprise  and  fright.  This  fact  shows  that  there 
is  a true  sense  in  which  these  utterances  are  representative. 
“ However  merely  animal  in  their  nature  the  earliest  ex- 
clamations may  have  been,”  says  Farrar,  in  his  “ Lan- 
guage and  Languages,”  “they  were  probably  the  very  first 
to  acquire  the  dignity  and  significance  of  reasonable 
speech,  because  in  their  case,  more  naturally  than  in  any 
other,  the  mere  repetition  of  the  sound  would,  by  the 
association  of  ideas , involuntarily  recall  the  sensation  of 
which  the  sound  was  so  energetic  and  instantaneous  an 
exponent.  In  the  discovery  of  this  simple  law,  which  a 
very  few  instances  would  reveal  to  the  mind  of  man,  lay 
the  discovery  of  the  Idea  of  Speech.  The  divine  secret 
of  language — the  secret  of  the  possibility  of  perfectly  ex- 
pressing the  unseen  and  immaterial  by  an  articulation  of 
air  which  seemed  to  have  no  analogy  with  it — the  secret 
of  accepting  sounds  as  the  exponents  and  signs  of  every- 
thing in  the  ‘ choir  of  heaven  and  furniture  of  earth  ’ — lay 
completely  revealed  in  the  use  of  two  or  three  despised 
interjections.  To  borrow  a simile  from  the  eloquent 
pages  of  Herder,  they  were  the  sparks  of  Promethean  fire 
which  kindled  language  into  life.” 

The  principle  of  association  in  connection  with  the  use 
of  natural  exclamations,  accounts  probably  for  the  origin 
not  only  of  actual  interjections,  but  of  other  sounds  also, 
like  the  sibilants,  aspirates,  and  gutturals,  giving  their 
peculiar  qualities  to  the  meanings  of  syllables  like  those 
in  hush,  hist,  and  kick.  Some,  too,  think  that  it  accounts 
for  the  origin  of  words  like  is,  me,  and  that,  cognate  with 


6 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , WiVZ)  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  Sanskrit,  <?.y,  and  /cz  ; the  first  meaning  to  breathe, 
and  indicating  the  act  of  breathing  ; the  second  closing 
the  lips  to  shut  off  outside  influence,  and  thus  to  refer  to 
self ; and  the  third  opening  the  lips  to  refer  to  others.  In 
the  same  way,  too,  because  the  organs  of  speech  are  so 
formed  that  the  earliest  articulated  sound  made  by  a babe 
is  usually  either  mama  or  papa , and  the  earliest  persons  to 
whom  each  is  addressed  are  the  mother  and  father, 
people  of  many  different  races  have  come  to  associate 
mama , which,  as  a rule,  is  uttered  first,  with  an  appeal  to 
the  mother,  and  papa  with  an  appeal  to  the  father. 

In  order,  however,  that  utterances  springing  from  ex- 
clamations may  be  used  in  language,  it  is  evident  that 
men  must  begin  to  imitate  them,  which  they  can  do  as  a 
result  only  of  comparison.  This  principle,  therefore,  as 
well  as  that  of  association,  must  have  been  closely  con- 
nected with  the  formation  of  the  earliest  words.  Ejacula- 
tions, as  has  been  said,  are  instinctive.  As  such,  they 
come  first  in  the  order  of  time.  The  imitations  of  them 
with  the  purpose  of  making  them  accepted  as  words  do 
not  appear  till  the  reflective 1 nature  begins  to  assert  itself 
and  then  they  soon  extend  to  the  reproduction  of  other 
sounds  besides  ejaculations — sounds  that  are  representa- 
tive of  natural  effects  external  to  man,  and  that  become 
accepted  as  words  as  a still  more  immediate  result  of  com- 
parison. These  latter  sounds  are  first  heard  when  the  child 
is  led  to  notice  external  objects.  Then,  unlike  the  animal 
which  can  only  ejaculate,  but  just  like  his  reputed  father 
Adam,  the  first  who  had  a reflective  nature,  he  begins  to 
give  names  to  these  objects,  or  to  have  names  given  to 
them  for  him  by  others.  These  names,  according  to  the 
methods  controlling  the  formation  of  nursery  language, 
are  always  based  upon  the  principle  of  imitation.  Certain 


1 See  page  127. 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  J 

noises  emanating  from  the  objects  designated,  the  chick- 
chick  of  the  fowl,  the  tick-tick  of  the  watch,  the  cuckoo  of 
the  bird  over  the  clock,  the  bow-wow  of  the  dog,  and, 
later,  the  clatter  of  the  rattle , or  the  rustle  of  the  silk  or 
satin,  are  imitated  in  the  names  applied  to  them  ; and 
this  imitative  element  enables  the  child  to  recognize  what 
the  object  is  to  which  each  name  refers.  The  existence 
of  hundreds  of  terms  in  all  languages,  the  sounds  of  which 
are  significant  of  their  sense,  like  buzz,  hiss,  crash , slain, 
bang,  whine,  howl,  roar,  bellow , whistle,  prattle,  twitter, 
gabble,  and  gurgle  (many  of  which  are  of  comparatively 
recent  origin),  is  a proof  that  the  principle  of  imitation  is 
an  important  factor  in  the  formation  of  words.  “ Through 
all  the  stages  of  growth  of  language,”  says  Whitney  in  his 
“ Language  and  the  Science  of  Language,”  “ absolutely 
new  words  are  produced  by  this  method  more  than  by 
any  other.’ 

In  the  essay  in  which  these  .facts  with  reference  to  the 
origin  of  language  are  brought  out,  the  ground  is  taken  that 
poetry,  as  an  artistic  development  of  language,  is  an  artistic 
development  of  these  elementary  principles  of  representa- 
tion through  association  and  comparison,  and,  one  by  one, 
all  the  different  characteristic  features  of  poetic  form  are 
traced  to  them.  Similar  ground  is  taken  in  the  essay 
entitled  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art.”  In  that,  it  is 
shown  that  the  sounds  of  the  voice  in  speech,  their  move- 
ments, for  instance,  whether  slow  or  fast,  as  when  indicat- 
ing important  or  unimportant  statements,  or  upward  or 
downward,  as  when  questioning  or  asserting,  are  neces- 
sarily suggested  whenever  corresponding  movements  are 
heard  in  musical  motives,  and  that,  therefore,  in  such 
cases,  these  motives  may  be  rightly  termed  representative 
by  way  of  association.  It  is  shown,  too,  that  other  mush 


8 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


cal  movements,  like  those  resembling  the  rhythm  of 
horses’  feet  when  galloping,  or  the  variations  and  trills  of 
a bird  when  singing,  are  directly  imitative,  and,  therefore, 
representative  by  way  of  comparison. 

The  present  essay  is  designed  to  show  that  correspond- 
ences of  the  same  general  character  underlie  representa- 
tion in  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  which  in 
these  arts  also  are  manifested  by  way  both  of  association 
and  of  comparison.  Association  and  comparison,  how- 
ever, as  has  been  pointed  out  in  former  essays  of  this  series, 
are  in  all  cases  very  closely  allied,  and  sometimes  are 
practically  inseparable.  Association  is  based  upon  sug- 
gested likeness  in  the  underlying  principle  exemplified  in 
two  things  which  are  apparently  different.  Comparison 
is  based  upon  apparent  likeness  in  the  things  themselves. 
Whether,  as  a fact,  we  connect  them  by  way  of  associa- 
tion or  of  comparison,  depends  partly  upon  our  point  of 
view,  and  partly  upon  the  degree  of  external  similarity 
between  them.  Sometimes  we  associate  things  that  are 
different  in  specific  details,  because  they  are  connected 
with  some  identical  general  effect.  Thus  we  associate 
the  moon  and  the  stars,  because  both  are  connected 
with  the  general  effect  of  the  night-time;  or  hens  and 
turkeys,  because  both  are  connected  with  the  general 
effect  of  a barn-yard.  Yet  while  this  is  true,  observe 
also  that,  in  case  we  be  thinking  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  we  can  also  compare  the  moon  and  stars,  because, 
from  that  point  of  view,  we  can  find  many  regards  in 
which  in  specific  details  the  two  are  alike,  and  so,  in  case 
we  be  thinking  of  fowls,  we  can  compare  hens  and  tur- 
keys. Again,  in  case  a Greek  column  supporting  a heavy 
entablature  be  perceived  to  be  like  a Gothic  column 
supporting  a heavy  arch,  in  one  regard  alone,  namely,  in 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  g 

being  large  in  size,  then  we  can  say  that  the  one  column 
suggests  the  other  by  way  of  association.  But  in  case  the 
Greek  column  be  perceived  to  be  like  another  Greek 
column  in  most  regards  or  in  many  regards,  then  we  can 
say  that  the  one  definitely  recalls  the  other  by  way  of 
comparison.  Moreover,  in  case  we  have  learned  that  the 
Greek  column  is  large  in  order  to  hold  up  a heavyweight, 
then  we  can  infer  that  the  Gothic  column  is  large  in  order 
to  do  the  same  thing  ; and  we  may  say  that  the  latter,  by 
way  of  association , represents  the  same  general  idea,  or 
conception,  of  strength  in  support  which  we  have  origi- 
nally derived  from  the  former.  But  if  the  latter  column 
as  well  as  the  former  be  Greek,  that  is,  if  both  columns 
manifest  the  same  details  of  appearance,  then  we  may  say 
that  the  latter  not  only  represents  the  same  idea  or  con- 
ception of  strength  in  support  as  does  the  former,  but 
that  it  does  this  by  way  of  comparison  as  well  as  of  asso- 
ciation. 

There  is  a difference  also,  though  this  too  is  not  always 
clearly  distinguishable,  between  the  ways  in  which  the 
mind  recognizes  and  gives  expression  in  art  to  associative 
and  comparative  representation.  In  that  which  is  asso- 
ciative, its  action  is  usually  instinctive.  It  recognizes  the 
resemblance  through  an  exercise  of  imagination,  and  indi- 
cates it  to  others  by  way  of  suggestion.  The  likeness  is 
not  proved  logically,  and  it  cannot  be,  because  objects 
manifesting  it  reveal  as  many  differences  which  mis- 
represent as  resemblances  which  do  the  opposite.  In 
comparative  representation,  on  the  contrary,  the 
action  of  the  mind  is  usually  reflective.  The  likeness 
between  factors  is  recognized  because  it  is  susceptible 
of  proof,  and  the  artistic  use  of  them  being  the 
result  of  well  considered  imitation  is  conditioned  upon 


IO  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

resemblances  in  all  their  essential  features.  Notice, 
nevertheless,  that,  as  a rule,  any  visible  object  which 
can  be  used  for  artistic  purposes  is,  to  a certain  extent, 
representative  in  both  the  ways  that  we  have  been 
considering.  When  representative  chiefly  by  way  of  asso- 
ciation, as  the  moon  of  the  stars,  or  the  hens  of  the  tur- 
keys, the  objects  generally  manifest  partial  resemblances 
that  can  be  compared  ; and  when  representative  chiefly  by 
way  of  comparison,  they  manifest  partial  characteristics 
that  can  be  associated.  If  this  be  true,  then  it  must  be 
true  also  that  the  action  of  the  mind  in  recognizing  and 
using  the  principle  of  representation  must  to  an  extent  be 
both  instinctive  and  reflective. 

In  “ Art  in  Theory,”  it  is  stated  that  by  instinctive  mental 
processes  are  meant  those  which  are  conducted  according 
to  unconscious  methods,  and  are  analogous,  for  this  reason, 
to  the  results  of  the  promptings  of  instinct  in  the  lower 
animals.  It  is  in  this  instinctive  way  that  the  child  utters 
ejaculations,  to  which,  as  shown  on  page  4,  certain  of 
our  words  owe  their  origin,  and  it  is  in  the  same  way  that 
melodies  and  verses  are  sometimes  composed,  singing 
themselves  into  existence,  the  musician  or  poet  hardly 
knowing  how  or  whence  they  come.  In  the  same  way, 
too,  children  and  the  uncultivated  gesture,  and  even  draw 
and  carve  and  build,  the  action  of  mind  in  the  elementary 
processes  of  these  arts  not  being  essentially  different  from 
that  in  which  the  bees  or  birds  or  beasts  construct  their 
honeycombs  or  nests  or  dens.  But  poetry  and  music  deal 
also  with  words,  notes,  and  phrases,  originated  with  a clear 
reflective  consciousness  of  surrounding  phenomena  with 
which,  by  way  of  imitation  or  description,  the  sounds  used 
in  the  arts  are  made  to  compare.  It  is  the  same  in  the  arts 
of  sight.  What  is  ever  constructed  by  an  animal  showing 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  II 


thought  and  discrimination, — and,  in  this  sense,  reflection 
with  reference  to  surrounding  appearances — of  the  same 
quality  as  that  which  characterizes  the  forms  used  in 

painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture?  And  to  what  can 
it  be  owing  except  to  this  reflective  action  of  the  mind 
working  according  to  the  calculating  methods  of  reason 
that,  even  though  general  conceptions  of  paintings,  statues, 
or  buildings  may  result  from  sudden  and  instinctive  inspi- 
rations, all  special  technical  effects  are,  as  a rule,  produced 
slowly,  and  with  a clear  conception  of  the  reason  for  the 
introduction  of  each  detail  ? 

It  may  be  said,  therefore,  that  all  art  involves  more  or 
less  both  of  the  instinctive  and  also  of  the  reflective  action 
of  the  mind.  But  it  was  shown  on  page  233  of  “Art  in 
Theory,”  that  it  is  when  the  results  of  reflection  are  added 
to  those  of  instinct,  or  of  instinct  to  those  of  reflection  ; 
when,  therefore,  neither  one  of  these  elements  alone  is 
present,  but  both  together, — it  is  then  that  we  have  in 
the  product  an  illustration  of  what,  in  distinction  from 
either  instinctive  or  reflective , we  may  term  an  emotive  in- 
fluence. A man,  for  instance,  may  eat  and  sleep  like  an 
animal,  instinctively,  or  he  may  think  and  talk  reflectively, 
without  giving  any  expression  to  what  we  mean  by  emo- 
tion. But  as  soon  as  he  thinks  and  talks  so  as  to  give 
expression  to  his  ideas  with  reference  to  eating  and  sleep- 
ing, as  is  the  case  with  a caterer  or  upholsterer,  an  hotel 
keeper  or  a house-wife ; or  as  soon  as  his  natural  physical 
instincts  prompt  and  accentuate  his  thinking  and  talk- 
ing, as  is  the  case  with  an  actor  or  a good  story-teller, 
then,  as  a result  of  instinct  made  thoughtful,  or  of  thought 
made  instinctive,  he  begins  to  manifest  his  emotive  na- 
ture; and  the  character  of  his  emotion  is  represented  by 
the  degree  in  which  the  one  or  the  other  of  the  two  ten- 


12  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

dencies — instinct  or  thought — is  in  excess.  It  may  be  in- 
teresting to  point  out  also  that,  acccording  to  ordinary 
conceptions,  the  power  which  blends  or  balances  the  in- 
stinctive or  physical  and  the  reflective  or  mental,  is  the 
soul,  holding  body  and  mind  together,  influencing  and 
influenced  by  both  ; and  also  that,  according  to  ordinary 
conceptions,  it  is  the  same  thing  to  put  emotion  into  an 
expression  and  to  put  soul  into  it.  Neither  can  be  mani- 
fested in  it  unless  it  represent  a blended  result  both  of 
nerve  and  of  thought,  of  instinct  and  of  reflection.  See 
the  note  at  the  foot  of  page  14  of  “ Poetry  as  a Represen- 
tative Art.” 

Accordingly  we  find  that  the  very  same  condition  which 
causes  a product  of  the  arts  of  sight  to  represent  both 
mental  processes  (by  way  of  instinctive  association  as  in- 
dicated on  page  4)  and  natural  surroundings  (by  way  of 
reflective  comparison  or  imitation,  as  indicated  on  page  4), 
causes  it  to  be  expressive  of  that  which  all  acknowledge  to 
be  of  such  great  importance  in  art,  namely,  emotion.  This, 
which  is  an  evident  logical  conclusion  from  what  has  been 
said,  corresponds  also  to  the  testimony  of  facts.  For  in- 
stance, a picture  of  a child  represents  by  way  of  association 
any  child,  and  therefore  causes  a mother  to  recall  instinct- 
ively her  own  child,  and,  for  this  reason,  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  picture.  But  in  the  degree  in  which  the  picture, 
besides  this,  represents  her  child  by  way  of  comparison — 
in  the  degree  in  which  agreement  in  each  detail  of  sex, 
age,  size,  dress,  and  countenance  satisfies  her  critical  re- 
flective powers,  in  this  degree  will  the  interest  awakened 
in  her  pass  into  emotion.  The  same  principle  applies  to 
scenery.  Owing  to  their  associations  with  some  particu- 
lar lake  or  mountain,  certain  persons  are  instinctively  in- 
terested in  a painting  of  any  lake  or  mountain.  But  the 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  PRINCIPLES.  1 3 


distinctively  emotional  effects  of  the  picture  are  always 
increased  in  the  degree  in  which  all  the  details,  the  more 
men  reflect  upon  them,  are  perceived  to  resemble  those 
of  the  particular  lake  or  mountain  with  which  they 
have  associated  it.  So  with  sculpture  and  architecture. 
Because  of  the  principle  of  association,  certain  persons 
cannot  avoid  an  instinctive  tribute  of  reverence  when 
they  enter  any  chapel  and  stand  before  the  statue  of 
any  saint.  But  let  the  chapel  or  statue,  either  in  its 
general  form  or  in  certain  of  its  details — as  of  flowers, 
leaves,  symbols,  etc., — recall,  distinctly,  by  way  of  com- 
parison, that  particular  chapel  or  personality  with  which 
they  associate  it,  and  their  reverence  will  be  the  result  of 
a deeper  phase  of  emotion.  Thus  we  find  both  logic  and 
experience  confirming  from  a new  point  of  view  what  was 
said  in  “ Art  in  Theory  ” with  reference  to  the  importance 
in  high  art  of  having  the  art-form  represent  both  mental 
conceptions — to  represent  which  alone  it  would  need 
merely  to  suggest  a certain  association  of  ideas,  and 
also  audible  or  visible  material  phenomena — to  represent 
which  alone,  it  would  need  merely  to  manifest  imitation. 


CHAPTER  II. 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  FACTORS  OF  REPRE- 
SENTATION IN  THE  ARTS  OF  SOUND  AND  OF  SIGHT. 


Factors  of  Visible  Representation  to  be  Considered  Separately  and  as  Com- 
bined— Duration,  Time,  and  Pauses  in  Sounds  Correlated  to  Extension, 
Size,  and  Outlines  in  Shapes — Force,  Gradation,  and  Regularity  among 
Sounds  Correlated  to  Similar  Effects  in  Shapes — Measures,  Rhythm, 
and  Accent  Correlated  to  Measurements,  Proportion,  and  Shading — 
Pitch  and  Quality  of  Sound  Correlated  to  Effects  of  Color — Effect  of 
Accent  on  the  Pitch  of  Tones  Correlated  to  that  of  Shading  upon  Color 
— Each  Factor  of  Visible  Effect  Representative — Instinctive,  Reflec- 
tive, and  Emotive  Representation  Illustrated  as  Applied  to  Extension 
or  Size — As  Applied  to  Shading  and  Color. 


JN  order  to  accomplish  the  end  that  we  have  in  view, 
let  us  begin,  in  conformity  with  what  was  done  in 
the  essays  treating  of  representation  in  poetry  and  in 
music,  by  analyzing  the  various  factors  of  expression 
common  to  all  art-products  that  appeal  to  the  eye,  and  by 
determining,  if  we  can,  what  each  factor,  when  consid- 
ered by  itself,  is  fitted  to  represent.  If,  as  a result,  we 
find  that  it  is  possible  to  determine  this,  then  we  shall 
evidently  have  a right  to  conclude  that  it  is  possible  to 
determine  the  meanings  of  all  the  factors  when  appear- 
ing together,  for,  thus  combined,  they  must  be  capable, 
like  the  letters  of  a symbolic  alphabet,  of  representing 
mental  processes  or  material  surroundings  of  a more 
complex  character. 


14 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  FACTORS.  I 5 


What  then  are  the  factors  of  expression  in  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture?  The  first  mentioned,  when 
speaking  of  the  arts  of  sound,  was  time  or  duration.  Cor- 
responding to  this,  we  notice,  as  the  first  here,  space  or 
extension.  As  time  in  music  and  poetry  is  divided  into 
syllables  or  notes,  each  of  a certain  duration,  so  in  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture,  space  is  divided  into  shapes, 
each  of  a certain  size.  Different  sounds  are  distinguished 
from  those  surrounding  them  by  cessations  or  changes  in 
the  character  of  the  tone,  but,  conventionally,  the  changes 
as  'well  as  the  cessations  are  termed  pauses.  Different 
shapes  are  distinguished  by  vacancies  or  changes  in  the 
appearance  of  surfaces,  but  the  former  as  well  as  the  lat- 
ter are  indicated  by  outlines. 

Sounds  again,  as  used  by  poets  and  musicians,  are  ap- 
parently distinguished  from  one  another  by  different  de- 
grees of  force  expended  either  by  the  voice  or  upon  instru- 
ments in  producing  them.  So,  correspondingly,  different 
shapes,  as  used  by  painters,  sculptors,  or  architects,  are 
apparently  distinguished  by  different  degrees  of  force 
exerted  in  handling  the  pencil,  brush,  chisel,  mallet,  or 
whatever  it  may  have  been,  with  which  they  have  been 
produced.  To  the  arts  of  sight,  the  term  force  is  not 
often  applied,  but  characteristics  like  vigorous  and  ener- 
getic are  frequently  ascribed  to  a source  analogous  in 
conception,  termed  stroke  or  touch , when  reference  is  made 
to  painting  ; and  handling , when  reference  is  made  to  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  or  architecture.  The  methods  of  using 
force  in  the  production  of  sound  may  differ,  as  indicated 
in  Chapter  VI.  of  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,’’  in 
degrees  of  strength , of  gradation , and  of  regularity.  Dif- 
ferences in  degrees  of  strength  cause  sounds  to  be  loud  or 
soft.  Differences  in  gradation,  by  which  is  meant  the  way 


16  PA  IN  TING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


in  which  one  sound  is  made  to  pass  into  another,  are  of 
three  general  kinds.  The  first  causes  the  utterance  to  be- 
gin loud  and  end  soft,  as  in  initial  elocutionary  stress  ; the 
second  causes  it  to  begin  soft  and  end  loud,  as  in  terminal 
stress  ; the  third  causes  it  either  to  begin  soft,  gradually 
swell  louder,  and  then  sink  to  soft  again,  as  in  median 
stress,  or — what  in  consecutive  discourse  produces  the 
same  general  effect — to  begin  loud,  gradually  sink  softer, 
and  then  swell  to  loud  again,  as  in  compound  stress.1  These 
three  kinds  of  gradation,  when  applied  in  connection  with 
accent,  not  to  single  syllables  but,  without  regarding  divi- 
sions between  words,  to  double  syllables  (as  in  do  it),  or  to 
triple  syllables  (as  in  misery ),  or  to  more  syllables  (as  in 
inseparably ),  cause  poetic,  and,  as  developed  from  them, 
musical  measures.  Finally,  differences  in  regularity  cause 
consecutive  effects  that  are  repetitious,  or  the  reverse,  of 
the  same  degrees  or  gradations  of  force.  That  is  to  say, 
they  cause  an  even,  uninterrupted  flow  of  sound,  or,  at 
least,  regularly  intermittent  changes  in  it  ; or,  otherwise, 
they  cause  an  uneven,  interrupted  flow  of  sounds,  with 
irregular  and  abrupt  changes.  Exactly  analogous  differ- 
ences are  distinguishable  in  the  results  of  touch  or  hand- 
ling, however  we  may  term  it,  in  the  arts  of  sight.  Viewed 
only  with  reference  to  apparent  effects,  which  are  all  that 
we  are  now  considering,  differences  in  degrees  of  what  is 
variously  called  strength,  vigor,  energy,  cause  the  factors 
of  delineation,  whether  produced  by  pencil,  brush,  chisel, 
or  arrangements  of  masonry,  to  appear  to  be  strong  or 
weak,  broad  or  narrow,  coarse  or  fine,  firm  or  faint,  dis- 


1 Of  the  other  two  forms  of  stress  used  in  elocution,  thorough,  in  which  the 
tone  is  said  to  continue  the  same  throughout,  is  practically  an  absence  of 
gradation,  and  tremulous  stress  in  which  the  voice  keeps  up  a constant 
waver,  is  an  intermittent  phase  of  the  same. 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  FACTORS.  I 7 


tinct  or  vague.  Differences  in  gradation  cause  a shape  to 
be  outlined  either  gradually,  as  in  curves,  abruptly,  as  in 
angles,  or  both  gradually  and  abruptly,  as  where  curves 
and  angles  are  used  together.  Differences  in  regularity 
cause  variations  in  the  numbers  of  corresponding  outlines, 
which,  if  present,  produce  an  impression  of  like  widths, 
lengths,  directions,  and  gradations — an  impression  invari- 
ably accompanying  such  artistic  effects  as  those  with 
which  we  are  all  familiar  under  the  names  of  parallelism, 
balance,  and  symmetry. 

Important  to  notice,  too,  is  the  fact  that,  as  among 
sounds,  the  differences  in  the  times  after  which  syllables 
and  notes  give  place  to  others  are  developed  into  measures , 
and  the  measures,  taken  together,  determine  the  effects 
of  rhythm ; so  among  shapes  the  differences  in  the  spaces 
beyond  which  the  factors  of  delineation  give  place  to 
others  are  developed  into  what  we  all  understand  by 
the  term  measurements , and  the  measurements,  taken  to- 
gether, determine  the  effects  of  proportion.  Moreover,  as 
in  the  arts  of  sound,  an  alternation  of  loud  with  soft  force 
in  each  measure  determines  its  general  character,  and, 
through  this,  the  character  of  the  rhythm ; so  exactly 
analogous  contrasts,  with  an  exactly  analogous  effect  upon 
measurements  and  proportion  are  produced  among  the 
factors  of  delineation  in  the  arts  of  sight.  That  which 
produces  this  effect  among  sounds  is  termed  accent , that 
which  produces  it  among  sights  is  termed  shading , or 
light  and  shade , or  chiaroscuro.  Without  the  aid  of  this 
latter,  it  would  be  as  impossible  to  indicate  in  painting 
whether  a surface  were  intended  to  seem  flat  or  round  or 
pointed,  as  without  accent  to  distinguish  the  meaning  in 
the  word  conjure  from  that  in  conjure.  In  other  words, 
shading  emphasizes  in  the  arts  of  sight  just  as  accent  does 


1 8 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


in  the  arts  of  sound.  See  Fig.  1 6,  page  41;  Fig.  17,  page 
43  ; and  Fig.  18,  page  45. 

Again,  in  the  volumes  treating  of  poetry  and  of  music, 
we  found  sounds  distinguished  from  one  another  not  only 
by  duration  and  force , including  gradation  and  regularity, 
but  also  by  pitch  and  quality.  So  shapes,  besides  differ- 
ing as  to  the  spaces  filled  by  them,  and  as  to  the  strength , 
gradation,  and  regularity  of  the  elements  of  their  factors 
of  delineation,  differ  also  in  what,  for  reasons  to  be  given 
in  Chapter  XL,  may  be  termed  the  pitch  and  quality  of 
their  coloring. 

Notice,  also,  that,  just  as  accent  necessarily  determines 
the  relative  pitch  of  consecutive  syllables,  and,  therefore, 
the  tunes  of  verse  ; and,  so  far  as  it  determines  these, 
determines  also  the  melody  (see  “ Poetry  as  a Representa- 
tive Art,”  Chapters  VIII.  to  X.),  so  light  and  shade  have 
an  analogous  influence  upon  what  is  here  termed  the  pitch 
of  the  colors.  We  may  use  light  and  shade  without 
color  ; but,  if  we  are  using  color  we  must,  in  art  at  least, 
use  them  also.  Once  more,  in  the  arts  of  sound  the  com- 
bined effects  of  accent,  pitch,  and  quality,  taken  together, 
cause  tone.  The  same  word,  though,  as  technically  ap- 
plied, it  has  a narrower  meaning,  is  used  to  indicate  the 
combined  effects  of  shading,  and  the  pitch  and  quality  of 
color.  These  correspondences,  as  will  be  observed,  hold 
good  throughout. 

It  will  be  observed  also,  as  we  go  on,  that  each  particu- 
lar effect  in  the  elements  of  sight,  as  in  those  of  sound,  is 
representative  ; and  that  it  is  so  because  of  an  application 
of  the  principle  either  of  association  or  of  comparison  ; 
or,  sometimes,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  of  both  of  these 
together.  To  anticipate  a little,  as  was  done  in  Chapter 
III.  of  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,”  we  shall  find. 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  FACTORS.  19 


as  applied  to  the  representation  of  mind — as  distinguished 
from  the  representation  of  external  phenomena,  which, 
being  mainly  imitative,  usually  interprets  itself — that  the 
degree  of  extension  or  the  size  indicates  what  the  artist 
conceives  to  be — and,  therefore,  uses  to  express — the 
degree  of  material  and,  in  this  sense,  physical  influence  ; 
whereas  the  other  effects  indicate  what  he  conceives  to  be 
— and,  therefore,  uses  to  express — the  degree  of  mental 
influence.  Of  these  effects,  touch  or  handling,  as  mani- 
fested in  the  relative  strength,  gradation,  or  regularity  of 
lines  or  their  shading,  naturally  suggests  the  relative 
expenditure  of  will-power.  Pitch,  as  manifested  in  the  rela- 
tive brightness  either  of  hues  or  of  the  light  that  is  in 
them,  naturally  suggests  the  mental  motive,  a brilliant  color 
attracting  the  attention  and  a dull  color  doing  the  oppo- 
site; and  quality,  as  manifested  in  the  relative  purity 
of  hues,  as  in  blues  or  reds,  or  mixture  of  hues,  as  in 
grays  or  browns,  naturally  suggests  the  mental  feeling. 
Thus  we  may  say  that  extension  measures,  touch  energizes, 
the  degree  of  color  aims,  and  the  quality  of  color  tempers 
the  appearance  ; that  the  first  determines  the  scope  of 
influence ; the  second,  the  degree  of  executive  force ; the 
third,  of  intellection  ; and  the  fourth,  of  emotion  or  soul. 

There  are  phases  of  each  effect,  too,  indicative,  on  the 
one  hand,  of  a predominating  physical,  and,  as  connected 
with  this,  instinctive  tendency  ; or,  on  the  other  hand,  of 
a predominating  mental,  and,  as  connected  with  this,  re- 
flective tendency  ; besides  which  there  is  a combination  of 
both  tendencies  in  what,  for  reasons  explained  on  page  1 1, 
may  be  termed  emotive.  For  instance,  extension,  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  is  not  divided  into  parts  by  outlines, 
and  therefore  conveys  mainly  the  impression  of  bulk, 
causes  us  to  think  chiefly  of  the  physical  in  the  sense  of 


20  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^ WZ>  ARCHITECTURE. 

material  effect  ; but  if  there  be  many  parts,  separated  by 
many  outlines,  that  need  to  be  carefully  observed  and 
studied  in  order  that  each  detail  of  shape  may  be  per- 
ceived and  understood,  then  it  is  the  mental  effect  of 
which  we  chiefly  think.  With  the  thought  of  the  physical 

effect  comes,  too,  a suggestion 
of  an  instinctive  action  of  the 
mind  ; and  with  the  mental 
effect  a suggestion  of  a re- 
flective action.  Thus  huge 
stones  in  a doorway,  or  huge 
pillarsin  a porch  having  heavy 
masonry  above  them,  are  so 
evidently  necessary  in  order 
to  afford  the  needed  physi- 
cal support,  that  it  seems  as  if 
the  builder  must  have  chosen 
them  instinctively  rather  than 
reflectively.  But  the  light 
steel  rods  and  bars  in  suspen- 
sion or  cantilever  bridges  are 
so  evidently  indicative  of  the 
results  of  experiment  and 
contrivance,  that  we  cannot 
avoid  the  impression  that 
they  were  determined  upon 
as  the  result  of  reflection. 

FIG.  1. — FARNESE  HERCULES  BY  QLYCON  , , . 

the  Athenian.  Often,  however,  the  heavy 

See  pages  21,  24,  26,  281.  doorway  or  column  may  be  so 
carefully  carved,  so  minutely  divided  by  outlines  into  all 
sorts  of  details  of  shape,  that  it  suggests  not  only  the 
physical  but  also  the  mental,  not  only  the  instinctive  but 
also  the  reflective  ; and  it  is  then  that,  in  accordance  with 


CORRESPONDENCES  BETWEEN  THE  FACTORS.  21 


what  was  said  on  page  1 1,  we  have  that  emotive  manifes- 
tation universally  attributed  to  that  artistic  development 
of  the  technicalities  of  building  which  we  term  architec- 
ture. Or  consider  another  example.  The  human  form, 
on  account  of  the  obvious  blending  in  it  of  the  physical 
and  the  mental,  the  instinc- 
tive and  the  reflective,  al- 
ways conveys  (see  page  1 1 
again)  some  impression  of 
emotive  effects.  Yet  ob- 
serve how  much  more  the 
purely  physical  effect  pre- 
dominates in  the  bulky 
limbs  of  the  Hercules,  Fig. 
i,  page  20,  than  it  does  in 
the  slender  limbs  of  the 
Flying  Mercury,  Fig.  2, 
page  2i.  Is  it  not  true, 
too,  that  the  very  shape  of 
the  former  suggests  less 
capacity  for  mental  action 
than  does  that  of  the  latter, 
whose  whole  appearance 
suggests  at  once  an  em- 
bodiment of  energetic  in- 
telligence? bee  pages  2i,  25,  2b,  b2,  73,  135,  152. 

Again,  we  shall  find  that,  as  applied  to  touch  or  hand- 
ling, the  physical  and,  in  this  sense,  instinctive  expression 
of  will-power  is  chiefly  conveyed  through  the  degrees  of 
strength  manifested  in  the  outlines  ; that  the  purely  mental 
and,  in  this  sense,  reflective  expression  of  the  same  is 
chiefly  conveyed  through  the  use  that  is  made  of  curves, 
angles,  or  combinations  of  them,  while  in  those  uses  of 


FIG.  2.— FLYING  MERCURY,  BY  GIOVANNI 
DA  BOLOGNA. 

See  pages  21,  25,  26,  62 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


degrees  and  gradations  of  outlines  that  lead  to  regularity 
or  the  lack  of  it,  we  find  the  possibilities  of  emotive  ex- 
pression. Finally,  as  applied  to  the  pitch  and  quality  of 
color,  we  shall  find  that  darker  phases  of  it — as  in  those 
greens,  blues,  and  grays  which  predominate  in  the  natural 
world  about  us — are  the  colors  that  most  naturally  recall 
surrounding  physical  appearances,  and,  therefore,  are  the 
ones  most  likely  to  be  used  when  trying  to  represent 
these ; and  that  the  brighter  hues,  as  in  the  reds,  oranges, 
and  yellows,  indicative,  as  they  usually  are,  notwith- 
standing their  exceptional  presence  in  flowers  and  autumn 
foliage,  of  things  that  a man  has  painted  or  dyed,  are  those 
most  likely  to  suggest  him,  and,  therefore  a mental  influ- 
ence ; while  it  is  through  an  appropriate  blending  of  the  two 
extremes,  i.  e .,  through  the  use  of  great  variety  of  color, 
that  the  most  effective  appeal  is  made  to  the  emotions. 
It  has  been  thought  best  to  make  these  statements  here  by 
way  of  anticipation,  in  order  to  aid  the  reader  in  forming 
an  intelligent  conception  of  that  toward  which  the  more 
ample  explanations  of  the  discussion  that  is  to  follow  are 
to  be  directed. 


CHAPTER  III. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  EXTENSION  OR  SIZE. 

Representation  in  Art  Based  upon  Methods  of  Expressing  Thought  and 
Emotion  through  the  Use  of  the  Human  Body — Size  as  Representing 
Heaviness,  Strength,  Immovability,  Substantiality,  or  the  Opposite — 
As  Representing  the  Important,  Influential,  Dignified,  or  the  Opposite 
— The  Representations  of  these  Conceptions  Made  Consistent  with  the 
Representation  of  Actual  External  Appearances  through  the  Laws  of 
Perspective  as  Indicating  Nearnesss — Differences  between  Require- 
ments of  Representation  in  these  Arts  and  in  Music  and  Architecture — 
Similarity,  Nevertheless,  in  the  Methods  of  Representation — As  Applied 
also  to  the  Laws  of  Perspective — Recapitulation  and  Illustrations  of  these 
Methods  as  Applied  to  Size. 


HE  principles  that  have  just  been  stated  have  now  to 


be  exemplified  as  manifested  in  each  of  the  elemen- 
tary factors  of  visible  representation.  The  first  of  these 
was  said  to  be  extension  or  size.  As  indicated  in  Chapter 
XX.  of  “ Art  in  Theory,”  any  of  these  factors  have  a 
meaning  for  a man  because  of  the  expressional  uses  which 
he  himself  makes  or  sees  others  make  of  like  factors 
in  his  own  body.  Thus  the  sounds  employed  in  poetry  and 
music  represent  thought  and  emotion,  because  of  what 
men  know  of  the  audible  representation  of  the  same 
through  the  utterances  of  the  human  voice  ; and  in  a simi- 
lar way  things  that  are  seen  represent  thought  and  emo- 
tion because  of  what  men  know  of  the  visible  repre- 
sentation of  the  same  through  the  movements  of  the 
human  muscles. 


23 


24  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AAA)  ARCHITECTURE. 


To  apply  this  to  size,  men  have  learned  through  their 
own  experience  in  lifting,  or  from  what  they  have  seen  of 
others’  lifting,  that  a large  object,  one  that  fills  a large 
amount  of  space,  is,  as  a rule,  heavier  than  small  objects, 


FIG.  3.— MELROSE  ABBEY,  SCOTLAND. 

See  pages  25,  26,  32,  34,  203,  322,  380,  390. 

and  can  consequently  bear  a heavier  weight  or,  as  we  say,  is 
stronger.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  comparatively  large 
limbs,  like  those  of  the  Farnese  Hercules,  Fig.  1,  page  20. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  EXTENSION  OR  SIZE.  25 


and  large  pillars  like  those  of  Melrose  Abbey,  Fig.  3, 
page  24,  necessarily  suggest,  by  way  of  association,  such 
conceptions  as  heaviness , strength , immovability , or  substan- 
tiality ; whereas  comparatively  slender  limbs,  like  those  of 


HG.  4.— CHURCH  NEAR  KOSTROMA,  RUSSIA. 

See  pages  25,  26,  32,  34. 

the  Flying  Mercury,  Fig.  2,  page  21,  or  small  pillars  like 
those  of  the  interior  of  the  church  near  Kostroma,  Fig. 
4,  page  25,  suggest,  in  the  same  way,  a lack  of  weight  and 
therefore  such  conceptions  as  lightness , weakness , inova- 


26  PAINTING , SULPTURE , ^ /VZ>  ARCHITECTG RE. 

bility,  or  unsubstantiality.  No  one  would  expect  the 
Hercules  to  be  able  to  fly,  but  he  might  expect  this  of  the 
Mercury.  The  columns  of  Melrose  Abbey  would  seem 
out  of  place  unless  the  roof  were  very  heavy  ; and  those 
of  the  church  at  Kostroma  would  be  equally  out  of 
place  unless  the  roof  were  very  light.  We  cannot 
imagine  any  attempt  to  remove  intact  the  former  building 
from  the  place  in  which  we  find  it ; but  it  is  not  impossi- 
ble to  conceive  of  putting  rollers  under  the  latter  and 
transporting  it  across  the  country. 

Just  here  it  may  be  well  to  point  out  the  confirmation 
afforded  by  these  facts  of  the  view  advanced  in  “ Art  in 
Theory,”  that  beauty  involves  effects  produced  by  sig- 
nificance as  well  as  by  form  ; or,  to  quote  the  language 
there  used,  that  “ Beauty  is  a characteristic  of  any  complex 
form  of  varied  elements  producing  apprehensible  unity  (i.  c., 
harmony  or  likeness)  of  effects  upon  the  motive  organs  of 
sensation  in  the  ear  or  eye,  or  upon  the  emotive  sources 
of  imagination  in  the  mind  ; or  upon  both  the  one  and 
the  other.”  Notice  how  true  this  is,  as  applied  precisely 
where  the  opponents  of  this  view  would  be  most  likely  to 
say  that  it  could  not  be  applied  i.  e.,  to  the  human  form. 
No  possible  conception  of  the  mere  effects  of  curves, 
straight  lines,  or  angles  could  account  for  the  lack  of  beauty 
which  all  feel  to  be  characteristic  of  clumsy  joints,  as  at 
the  neck,  wrists,  and  ankles  ; or  of  fragile  centres  of  force, 
as  in  the  head,  chest,  and  calves.  The  only  way  in  which 
to  account  for  these  effects  of  size  is  to  acknowledge 
that,  by  way  of  association,  the  former  suggest  a lack  of 
agility  and,  therefore,  of  the  possibilities  of  grace,  and  the 
latter  a lack  of  brain,  breath,  or  brawn,  and,  therefore,  of 
the  possibilities  of  strength. 

But  to  go  back  to  the  line  of  thought  from  which  this 


RE PRESENTATION  BY  EXTENSION  OR  SIZE.  2 7 


is  a digression,  it  may  be  said  again  that  an  object  of  large 
size,  as  contrasted  with  surrounding  objects  of  small  size, 
represents  that  which  is  important  or  influential.  To 
recognize  this  fact,  as  well  as  another,  which  is  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  methods  of  expression  in  art  as  actually 
developed,  the  desire  to  represent  mental  conceptions  sug- 


FIQ.  6.— HERACLES,  TRITON,  AND  NEREIDS  FROM  DORIC  TEMPLE  AT  ASSOS. 

See  pages  27,  222. 


gestively  by  way  of  association  antedates  the  desire  to 
represent  imitatively  the  actual  conditions  of  external 
appearances,  notice  the  size  of  the  king  in  Fig.  5,  page  2 7, 
illustrating  early  Egyptian  art  ; also  that  of  the  Hercules 
in  Fig.  6,  page  27,  illustrating  early  Greek  art  ; as  well  as  in 
that  of  Henry  II.  in  Fig.  7,  page  29,  illustrating  the  early 


28  PAINTI.XG,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


art  of  the  middle  ages.  The  large  form  in  each  of  these 
figures  clearly  indicates,  byway  of  association,  the  artist’s 
idea  of  its  relative  importance  and  influence;  but  it  fails 
to  indicate  by  way  of  comparison  any  condition  that  he 
could  even  have  conceived  it  possible  to  imitate  from 
actual  appearances.  Notice  that  it  is  mainly  for  this 
reason,  too,  that  the  figures  do  not  illustrate  high  art. 

As  has  been  maintained  throughout  this  series  of 
essays,  high  art  must  represent  both  one’s  conceptions 
concerning  forms,  and  the  actual  conditions  in  which  the 
forms  appear  in  nature.  But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  can 
art  by  means  of  size  represent  one  of  many  figures  as 
being  more  important,  and  yet  represent  all  of  the  figures 
as  being  of  the  same  relative  size  as  in  nature?  How  but 
precisely  as  was  done  in  later  Greek  art,  and  is  done  in 
all  our  art  of  to-day? — namely,  by  an  application  of  the 
natural  laws  of  perspective,  i.  e.,  by  depicting  the  important 
figure  or  figures  as  being  in  the  foreground  of  an  art-pro- 
duct and  the  unimportant  figures  as  being  in  the  back- 
ground. This  can  produce  the  desired  effect  because,  in 
addition  to  what  has  been  indicated  already,  large  size,  as 
contrasted  with  small,  indicates  nearness.  See  Fig.  8, 
page  31,  also  Fig.  168,  page  297.  Accordingly,  by  carry- 
ing out  the  laws  of  perspective,  the  grouping,  either  in 
painting  or  sculpture,  may  be  made  to  represent  both  the 
relations  in  the  mind  of  the  conceptions  which  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  figures,  and  also  the  relations  in  nature  of 
the  appearances  of  the  figures  with  which  those  of  the 
art-product  are  made  to  compare. 

The  fact  of  the  representation  both  of  mental  processes 
and  of  material  appearances  is  more  difficult  to  recognize 
in  architecture  and  music  than  in  the  other  arts.  This 
is  because  of  the  different  mode  of  expression  of  which 


FIG.  7.— HENRY  II.  RECEIVES  FROM  GOD  THE  CROWN,  HOLY  LANCE,  AND 
IMPERIAL  SWORD.  (From  Henry's  Missal. ”) 

See  page  27. 


29 


30  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^ A'/9  ARCHITECTURE. 

these  other  arts  are  developments.  This  mode  is  termed 
in  “ Art  in  Theory  ” responsive  and  unsustained,  which 
terms  are  intended  to  indicate  that  the  forms  are  occa- 
sioned by  an  endeavor  to  respond  to  one  and,  afterwards, 
to  another  outside  interruption,  or,  at  least,  emergency, 
as  is  exemplified  when  a cat  moves  about  and  mews, 
or  when  a bird  flits  from  branch  to  branch  and  chirps, 
or  when  a man,  gazing  from  one  to  another  of  his  sur- 
roundings, refers  frequently  to  what  he  hears  here  or 
sees  there.  If  he  do  this  by  word,  we  have  that  which 
develops  into  poetry  ; if  by  deed,  that  which  develops 
into  painting  or  sculpture.  But,  aside  from  this  mode  of 
expression,  there  is  another  which  may  be  termed  subjec- 
tive and  sustained.  In  accordance  with  this,  the  cat  keeps 
quiet  and  purrs,  the  bird  stays  on  one  branch  and  sings, 
and  the  man  works  and  hums  to  himself,  developing  a 
plan  or  a melody  from  some  single  outside  suggestion, 
without  consciousness  of  interruption, — or  not,  at  least,  of 
anything  like  frequent  interruption — in  which  other  things 
are  suggested.  It  is  this  subjective  and  sustained  mood 
that  is  at  the  basis  of  representation  in  architecture  and 
music.  Because  the  mood  is  subjective  rather  than 
responsive,  there  is  less  necessity  in  these  arts  than  in 
poetry,  painting,  or  sculpture  for  expressing  thoughts  and 
emotions  in  such  ways  that  they  shall  communicate 
definite  information  ; and  because  the  method  of  expres- 
sion is  sustained,  there  is  less  consciousness  of  external 
surroundings,  and  therefore  less  tendency  to  describe  and 
imitate  their  appearances.  For  these  reasons,  the  resem- 
blances to  external  appearances  at  the  bases  of  these  two 
subjective  arts  are  comparatively  few.  They  are  some- 
times comprehended  in  a single  significant  series  of  out- 
lines or  of  tones  from  which  the  whole  product  is 


FIQ.  8.  — POLLICE  VERSO,  BY  QER6mE. 
See  pages  28,  34,  91,  274,  287,  295. 


32  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

developed  in  a way  not  possible  in  poetry,  painting,  or 
sculpture.  But  because  the  method  is  different  in  its 
practical  application,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  it  is 
different  in  principle.  The  representation,  though  not 
the  same  in  degree,  is  not  radically  different  in  kind. 

It  has  already  been  shown,  for  instance,  that  by  way  of  as- 
sociation, pillars  of  large  size  may  represent  the  conception 
of  strength  as  applied  to  support.  It  is  evident,  too,  that 
they  can  do  this  no  matter  what  may  be  the  shape  of 
that  which  is  above  them.  But  suppose  that,  taking  a 
suggestion,  as  the  early  architects  apparently  did,  from 
the  way  in  which  limbs  branch  out  from  tree-trunks  (see 
Figs.  9,  page  33  ; 43,  page  84;  and  44,  page  85),  the  wood 
and  stone  which  the  pillars  support  are  also  made  to  branch 
off  from  them  as  in  arches  (see  Fig.  3,  page  24)  or  that, 
taking  a suggestion  from  the  way  in  which  the  petals  of 
flowers  branch  out  from  their  stems,  the  different  parts  of 
the  tops  of  the  columns  are  made  to  branch  out  from  them 
as  in  the  Egyptian  capital,  Fig.  10,  page  34,  or  the  Greek 
Corinthian  capital,  Fig.  1 1,  page  34,  is  it  not  evident  that, 
when  this  has  been  done,  something  has  been  done  which 
adds  to  the  representation  of  the  mere  conception  of 
supporting  strength,  a representation  of  an  effect  that  is 
produced  by  appearances  in  nature? 

Again,  the  laws  of  perspective,  in  architecture,  as  in 
painting  and  sculpture,  give  to  large  as  contrasted  with 
small  size  an  effect  of  nearness.  Massive  outlines, 
therefore,  in  walls,  pillars,  ceilings,  domes,  spires,  lessen 
our  appreciation  of  their  distance  from  us.  It  is  safe  to 
say  that,  although  their  actual  measurements  were  the 
same,  the  width  of  the  floor-space  represented  in  Fig.  3, 
page  24,  would  appear  to  be  scarcely  more  than  half  that 
in  Fig.  4,  page  25.  So,  too,  owing  to  the  massing  of  out- 


33 


FIG.  9.— A SCENE  IN  THE  WOODS. 
See  pages  32,  73,  399. 


34  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


FIG.  10—  EGYPTIAN  LOTUS-LEAF  CAPITAL 
FROM  EDFU. 


lines  in  large,  unbroken  spaces,  the  church  represented  in 
Fig.  12,  page  35,  would,  at  the  same  distance,  appear  to  be 

so  much  nearer  us  than 
would  the  more  minute 
outlines  in  Fig.  13,  page  36, 
that  these  might  seem  rela- 
tively larger  and  higher. 
In  fact,  this  effect  of  the 
massing  of  spaces  is  one 
reason  why,  as  a rule,  most 
Greek  buildings  (Fig.  14, 
page  36)  or  Greco-Roman 
(Fig.  12,  page  35)  appear 
See  pages  32,  394,  398.  smaller  and  lower  than 

Gothic  buildings  of  approximate  dimensions.  One  must 
not  lose  sight  of  the  fact,  however,  that  these  effects  are 
subject  also  to  the  principle  of  contrast.  In  the  painting 
in  Fig.  8,  page  31,  it  is  the  contrast  between  the  larger 

forms  at  the  front  and  

the  smaller  at  the  rear 
that  cause  the  former 
to  seem  nearer.  So 
in  architecture.  Not- 
withstanding the  ef- 
fects of  slight  distance 
conveyed  by  the  large 
pillars  in  Fig.  3,  page 
24,  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  width  and 
the  height  Of  the  See  pages  32,  330,  398. 

whole  building  being  greater  than  between  the  same 
dimensions  in  Fig.  4,  page  25,  may  give  a greater  impres- 
sion of  height  than  is  conveyed  by  the  latter.  Notice 


FIG.  11.— OLD  CORINTHIAN  CAPITAL 
FROM  BRANCHIDAE. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  EXTENSION  OR  SIZE. 


the  same  principle  as  exemplified  in  the  effect  of  the 
tower  in  Fig.  24,  page  52,  as  contrasted  with  that  in  Fig. 
-5’  Paffe  53-  As  in  ah  Gothic  buildings  the  height  usually 


FIG.  12— ST.  ISAAC’S,  ST.  PETERSBURG. 

See  pages  34,  36,  38,  42,  52,  82,  352,  353,  356,  380. 

exceeds  the  width  to  an  extent  not  true  of  other  styles, 
we  see  a second  reason  for  their  apparently  greater  alti- 
tude. To  observe  this,  compare  the  effects  of  the  Gothic 
forms  in  Fig.  41,  page  81,  with  the  Greek  forms  in  Fig.  14, 


36  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , .TA^Z>  ARCHITECTURE. 


page  36,  the  Greco-Roman  forms  in  Fig.  12,  page  35,  and 

the  combination  of  the 
Romanesque  and  Byzan- 
tine in  Fig.  15,  page  3 7. 
Another  reason  for  this 
effect  of  altitude  in  Gothic 
buildings  will  be  found  on 
page  68. 

Further  explanations  of 
methods  of  representing, 
in  architecture,  both  men- 
tal conceptions  and  mate- 
rial appearances,  will  be 
found  in  Chapters  XVII. 
to  XXI.  At  present, 
enough  has  been  said  to 
enable  the  reader  to  under- 
stand the  general  tenor  of  what  is  meant  by  affirming 
that  this  is  possible,  and,  for  the  highest  excellence,  is 


FIG.  14. — TEMPLE  OF  THESEUS,  ATHENS. 

See  pages  34,  35,  38,  42,  52,  84,  86,  322,  323,  380,  3S6,  387,  389. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  EXTENSION  OR  SIZE. 


37 


essential.  Not  only  in  painting  and  sculpture,  but  in 
architecture  also,  relatively  large  and  small  extension, 
corresponding  in  this  regard  to  relatively  long  and  short 
duration,  have  inevitable  representative  effects.  Either 
by  way  of  association  or  of  comparison,  or  of  both,  they 
respectively  indicate  what  is  heavy , strong , substantial , 
immovable , important,  influential,  dignified,  near,  on  the 
one  hand  ; or  else,  on  the  other  hand,  what  is  light, 
weak,  unsubstantial,  movable,  unimportant,  uninfluent ial. 


FIG.  15.— CHURCH  OF  ST.  MARK,  VENICE. 

See  pages  36,  3S,  42,  52,  78,  82,  86,  380. 

undignified,  remote.  It  is  this  principle  that  causes  us, 
when  looking  at  objects,  to  think  more  of  a statue 
than  of  a doll,  more  of  a cathedral  than  of  a cottage, 
more  of  the  fingers  on  a statue  than  of  the  fringe  on 
which,  perhaps,  they  rest,  and  more  of  the  towers  and 
domes  of  a building  than  of  its  chimneys  and  ventilators. 
The  same  principle  applied  in  connection  with  the  natural 
laws  of  perspective,  causes  us  to  give  more  consideration 
to  the  full-sized  figures  in  the  foreground  of  a paint- 


j 8 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , .4AV3  ARCHITECTURE. 


ing  than  to  the  minute  objects  in  its  background.  If  the 
picture  be  designed  to  interest  us  in  animals,  this  fact  is 
represented  by  large  size  that  brings  them  to  the  front ; 
if  in  a pasture  in  which  they  are  feeding,  by  small  size 
that  sends  them  to  the  rear.  Overbalancing  foliage,  with 
a cherub’s  face  just  visible  in  it,  emphasizes  the  prodigal- 
ity of  inanimate  nature.  A full-sized  statue,  with  a few 
flowers  about  it,  emphasizes  the  pre-eminence  of  man. 
Contrast  the  lower  and  upper  parts  of  Fig.  231,  page  396. 
In  a building,  the  requirements  for  the  support  either  of 
many  occupants  or  of  a heavy  superstructure  are  repre- 
sented by  large  foundations,  walls,  or  pillars  (see  Fig.  14, 
page  36) ; accommodation  for  crowds,  by  wide  entrances 
(see  St.  Mark’s,  Fig.  15,  page  37);  for  light,  in  large,  high 
rooms,  by  large  windows  (see  Fig.  13,  page  36);  and  for 
air,  by  high  roofs  or  domes  (Fig.  12,  page  35,  and  Fig.  15. 
page  37). 


CHAPTER  IV. 


REPRESENTING  BY  MEANS  OF  SHAPE  : THE  ACCENTING 
OR  SHADING  OF  OUTLINES. 


Force,  Pitch,  and  Quality,  as  Exemplified  in  the  Arts  of  Sound — Illus- 
tration— Pause  and  Accent  as  Correlated  to  Outline  and  Shading — 
Touch  or  Handling  as  Differing  in  Strength,  Gradation,  and 
Regularity:  Strength — Examples  of  Strength  and  Delicacy  of  Touch 
in  Outline  Sketches — Other  Examples — The  Same  as  Applied  in  Con- 
nection with  Color — As  Applied  in  Sculpture — As  Applied  in  Architec- 
ture— The  Importance  of  the  Effects  of  Light  and  Shade  in  this  Art. 


TT  EFORE  passing  on  to  representation  as  produced  by 
shape  as  distinguished  from  size,  let  us  recall  again, 
and  elaborate  that  which  on  page  15  was  said  to  corre- 
spond in  the  arts  of  sound  to  shape.  In  that  place  the 
reader  was  reminded  that  a syllable  or  note  exemplifying 
one  form  of  duration,  whether  long  or  short,  is  always 
separated  from  another  either  by  a pause  involving  an  en- 
tire cessation  of  sound,  or  by  some  change  in  the  mode  of 
utterance,  involving  a cessation  in  the  character  of  the 
sound,  and  that,  in  the  latter  case,  the  change  is  produced, 
first  of  all,  by  a difference  in  what  is  variously  called  force , 
intensity,  stress,  or  accent.  This  difference  causes  a tone,  by 
means  of  degrees  of  strength,  gradation , or  regularity,  to 
be  shaded,  so  to  speak,  to  an  ideal  pause  before  it  passes 
into  another.  Combined  with  this  difference  there  was 
mentioned  also  a possible  difference  in  pitch,  one  tone  be- 


39 


40  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


ing  made  higher  or  lower,  as  related  to  the  musical  scale, 
than  another  tone  ; and  a possible  difference  in  quality,  one 
tone  being  articulated,  vocalized,  or,  as  we  say,  colored 
as  another  is  not. 

The  truth  of  these  statements  will  be  recognized  upon 
reading  the  following.  Elocutionists  are  accustomed  to 
say  that,  in  doing  so,  one  should  pause  at  the  ends  of 
the  lines  and  at  other  places,  some  of  which  are  indicated 
by  the  vertical  bars.  But  notice  that,  when  the  verses  are 
well  read,  there  are  seldom  anywhere  any  real  cessations  of 
sound  ; also  that,  in  passing  from  one  syllable  to  another, 
there  is  always  a difference  in  accent  or  intensity,  as  well 
as,  frequently,  differences  in  pitch  and  quality  or  tone- 
color. 

Who  would  he 
A mermaid  fair, 

Singing  alone. 

Curling  her  hair 
Under  the  sea, 

In  a golden  curl 
With  a comb  of  pearl. 

On  a throne  ? 

I / would  be  / a mermaid  / fair. 

I would  sing  / to  myself  / the  whole  / of  the  day  : 

With  a comb  / of  pearl  / I would  comb  / my  hair  ; 

And  still  / as  I combed  / I would  sing  / and  say, 

“ Who  is  it  loves  me  ? who  loves  not  me  ? ” 

The  Mermaid  : Tennyson. 


In  the  realm  of  sight  vacancies,  and,  in  the  arts  of  sight, 
strongly  marked  outlines  that  separate  one  part  of  the  whole 
extension  or  space  from  other  parts,  giving  it  thus  what  we 
term  shape,  correspond  to  pauses  in  the  arts  of  sound. 
But  shape  is  indicated  not  only  by  these  outlines  at  the 
top,  sides,  or  bottom  of  an  object  or  parts  of  an  object; 


REPRESENTING  BY  MEANS  OF  SHAPE. 


41 


or  rough, 
drawing 


but  often  also  by  the  accent  given  to  the  outlines  through 
the  shading  of  them  ; and  it  is  always  indicated  by  this 
when  it  is  neces- 
sary to  show  the 
shape  of  a sur- 
face that  is  fac- 
ing us,  as  wheth- 
er it  be  concave 
or  convex,  or 
whether  its  text- 
ure be  fine  or 
coarse,  smooth 
In 
and 

painting,  shad- 
ing is  general- 
ly produced 
through  using 
lines  or  masses 
in  black  or  in 
color,  which,  for 
this  purpose,  are 
either  abruptly 
or  gradually,  les- 
sened in  number 
or  intensity  (see 
Fig.  16).  In 
sculpture  and 
architecture  the 
same  effect  is 
produced  as  a 
natural  result  of 

a projection  or  depression  of  surfaces,  which  brings  certain 


FIG.  16.— LIGHT  AND  SHADE.  W.  CRANE. 
See  pages  18,  41,  44,  46,  294,  307. 


42  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , WjVZ?  ARCHITECTURE. 


parts  into  the  light  and  sends  others  into  the  shade.  See 
Figs.  12-15  in  the  last  chapter.  The  connection  between 
outlining  and  shading  is,  therefore, very  close,  and  evidently 
the  effect  indicated  by  the  former  word,  as  ordinarily  used, 
includes  the  conceptions  suggested  by  both.  An  object 
may  be  outlined  either  by  an  actual  line  separating  its  sides 
from  other  objects,  or  by  the  shading  which,  with  or  with- 
out actual  lines,  is  so  disposed  as  to  indicate  the  character 
of  the  surface  or  texture.  Notice,  too,  that  the  word  out- 
line, as  thus  used,  may  refer  either  to  a narrow  pencil-line, 
as  in  drawing,  or  to  a much  broader  brush-line,  as  in  paint- 
ing, or  to  a very  broad  protuberance  or  string-course,  even 
to  a column  or  entablature,  as  in  sculpture  or  architecture. 

Taking  the  term  outlines  in  this  general  sense,  as  fac- 
tors entering  into  the  appearances  of  art,  which,  as 
appearances,  no  matter  how  caused,  are  representative, 
three  general  ways,  as  stated  on  page  15,  may  be  recog- 
nized in  which  the  touch  or  handling,  producing  these 
outlines,  may  differ,  namely  in  strength , in  gradatioti,  and 
in  regularity.  In  the  first  place,  just  as  force  when  ap- 
plied to  sounds  may  be  loud  or  soft,  so  the  effects  of  touch 
may  be  heavy  or  light,  coarse  or  fine  ; and  may  thus  rep- 
resent, as  indicated  on  page  19  the  greater  or  lesser  degrees 
of  mental  energy  or  strength  expended  by  the  artist,  or  of 
material  energy  or  strength  attributable  to  the  appearance 
which  is  reproduced. 

Fortunately,  in  a place  where  one  could  not  satisfacto- 
rily introduce  illustrations  containing  color,  it  has  been 
found  possible  to  obtain  sketches  which,  without  possess- 
ing color,  can  illustrate  this  statement.  They  are  all  the 
more  satisfactory,  too,  inasmuch  as  they  were  intended 
by  the  artist  who  drew  them  to  illustrate  not  this  subject, 
but  another  to  which  reference  will  be  made  later. 


FIG.  17.— LINES  EXPRESSIVE  OF  STORM.  W.  ChANE. 


44  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AAAO  ARCHITECTURE. 


Compare  Fig.  17,  page  43  with  Fig  18,  page  45.  Is  it 
not  a fact  that  the  heavier  and  coarser  lines  characterizing 
the  first  of  these,  give  one  an  entirely  different  conception 
of  the  degree  of  mental  energy  exerted  by  the  artist,  than 
do  the  lighter  and  finer  lines  characterizing  the  second? 
From  the  first  we  receive  an  impression  of  strength  ; from 
the  second,  an  impression  of  delicacy.  Were  the  two  pro- 
duced by  different  artists,  and  were  these  the  only  speci- 
mens of  their  work  that  we  had  seen,  we  might  be  justified 
in  saying  that  the  style  of  the  one  was  characterized  by 
strength,  and  the  style  of  the  other  by  delicacy,  and 
we  might  infer  that  the  difference  in  their  styles  was 
owing  to  a difference  in  their  mental  characteristics.  But 
notice,  now,  that  there  is  a reason  outside  of  the  mind  of 
the  artist  for  the  manifestation  of  energy  in  the  one  sketch 
and  of  a lack  of  energy  in  the  other.  He  has  been  true 
to  the  conditions  that  inspired  him.  He  has  shown  men- 
tal energy  in  the  first  drawing  because  nature  itself  had 
shown  him  energy  in  the  appearance  which  he  was  to 
reproduce.  These  heavy  lines  are  representative  not 
merely  of  his  own  moods,  but  of  these  as  excited  by  what 
he  has  seen,  and  with  which  therefore  his  moods  are  in 
sympathy.  Nothing,  so  well  as  such  lines,  could  manifest 
the  impetuous  fury  of  the  storm,  the  violent  swaying  of 
the  trees,  or  the  resisting  strength  of  these  and  of  the 
rocks.  Nor  could  anything,  so  well  as  the  delicate  lines, 
represent  the  restful  gentleness  of  the  other  scene,  the 
trees  of  which  look  as  if  unable  to  stand  the  slightest 
blow,  and  the  shores  of  which  seem  ready  to  yield  to  the 
feeblest  flood. 

Again  contrast  Fig.  16  page  41  with  Fig.  167  page  293, 
and  observe  how,  even  aside  from  other  causes  contributing 
to  the  effect,  the  ..lines  in  the  latter  figure,  though  only 


FIG.  18.— LINES  EXPRESSIVE  OF  REPOSE.  V/.  CRANE. 
See  pages,  18,  44,  70,  73,  90,  92,  95,  259. 


46  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


slightly  stronger,  make  it  representative  of  mental  energy 
in  a sense  not  quite  so  true  of  the  former  ; and,  as  related 
to  the  representation  of  natural  appearances,  observe  in 
Fig.  16  the  comparatively  fine  lines  or  the  lack  of  lines  used 
in  delineating  the  texture  of  the  marble  and  of  the  flowers  ; 
and  observe  in  Fig.  167,  page  293,  the  same  kinds  of  lines 
used  in  delineating  the  sky,  as  well  as  the  boy’s  flesh  and 
garments.  Is  it  not  a fact  that  these  differences  in  the 
shading  or  strength  of  lines,  in  such  cases,  can  be  rightly 
termed  representative  both  of  mental  and  material  con- 
ditions ? 

Of  course,  the  same  general  principles  must  apply  to 
lines  produced  through  the  use  of  color  also.  “ By  a few 
strokes,”  says  Reynolds,  in  his  eleventh  “ Discourse  on 
Painting,”  “ Titian  knew  how  to  mark  the  general  image 
and  character  of  whatever  object  he  attempted  ; and  pro- 
duced, by  this  alone,  a truer  representation  than  his 
master,  Giovanni  Bellini,  or  any  of  his  predecessors  who 
finished  every  hair.”  In  a passage,  too,  which,  as  indi- 
cated by  the  italics  here  introduced,  might  be  quoted  in 
confirmation  of  the  theory  presented  in  this  book,  because 
undoubtedly  referring  at  times  to  the  representation  of 
mind,  and  at  other  times  to  the  representation  of  material 
nature,  Charles  Blanc  says,  in  his  “ Grammar  of  Painting 
and  Engraving,”  translated  by  R.  N.  Doggett;  “ touch  is 
the  handwriting  of  the  painter,  the  stroke  of  his  mind.  . . . 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  treated  all  his  pictures  with  equal 
touch,  smooth  and  melting.  Titian  himself  made  little 
difference,  and  only  in  the  ‘ Peter  Martyr  ’ and  ‘ The  As- 
sumption ’ he  seems  led  by  his  subject  to  accents  more 
animated,  more  marked  than  usual.  . . . Poussin, 

painting  ‘ Pyrrhus  Saved  ’ or  the  ‘ Rape  of  the  Sabines  ’ 
[Fig.  36,  page  75],  treats  his  painting  with  a manly  hand 


REPRESENTING  BY  MEANS  OF  SNARE. 


47 


and  intentional  rudeness,  while  he  guides  the  pencil  with 
more  gentleness  when  he  represents  ‘ Rebecca  ’ and  her 
companions.  Rubens  expresses  his  feelings  with  more 
energy  than  ever  when  he  puts  on  the  stage  the  peasants 
of  the  ‘ Kermesse  ’ or  the  furious,  breathless  hunters  of 
the  ‘ Wild  Boar.’  . . . 

Michael  Angelo  executed 
with  extreme  delicacy  the 
grand  ‘ Prophets  ’ of  the 
Sistine  Chapel  and  the  ter- 
rible figures  of  the  ‘ Last 
Judgment’;  but  it  is  an 
example  not  to  be  imitated 
. . . Touch  ought  to  be 
varied  . . . according 

to  the  character  of  the 
objects.  . . . Look  at 

one  of  Greuze’s  young 
girls,  weeping  over  a brok- 
en picture  or  a dead  bird  ; 
beside  the  fine,  delicate, 
transparent,  satiny  flesh, 
the  chemise  is  rendered 
by  a pencil  that  does  not 
give  even  the  idea  of  lines, 
or  give  an  idea  so  gross  as 
to  shock.  . . . Teniers, 


FIG.  19.— PALLAS  OF  VELLETRI  : 
LOUVRE,  PARIS. 

See  pages  49,  76,  281. 


on  the  contrary,  admirably  accommodates  his  touch  to  the 
physiognomy  of  each  object.  Without  the  least  difficulty, 
and  as  if  in  sport,  he  recognizes  and  characterizes  the  flesh 
tints  ; here  the  fresh,  thin  skin  of  a young  farm  girl,  there 
the  rough  skin  of  an  old  fiddler.  . . . But  outside  of 

these  conventionalities  which  require  that  the  handling  of 


48  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  pencil  should  be  varied,  the  touch  of  the  painter  will 
always  be  good  if  it  is  natural,  that  is,  according  to  his 
heart.  Ribera  is  coarse,  but  his  coarseness  does  not  dis- 
please, because  it  is  sin- 
cere. Rembrandt  has  a 
mysterious  palette,  be- 
cause he  has  a genius 
dreamy  and  profound. 
Velasquez  is  frank,  be- 
cause his  pencil  is  guided 
by  the  muse  of  truth. 
The  touch  of  Poussin  is 
like  his  character,  noble 
and  expressively  simple. 
Rubens  handled  the 
brush  with  the  nerve  and 
warmth  that  animated 
him.  . . . Prud’hon,  am- 
orous and  sad  poet,  chose 
a soft,  sweet  execution 
that  lulled  lines  to  sleep, 
tranquillized  shadows, 
and  let  nature  appear 
only  through  a veil  of 
love  and  poetry.” 

The  same  differences 
between  the  representa- 
tive effects  of  strength  in 
outline  are  perceptible 
in  sculpture  also.  It  is 
between  a statue’s  being 
clothed  and  being  unclothed  that  causes  the  energetic, 
firm  dignity  of  effect  produced  by  the  many  strong  lines 


FIG.  20.— APOLLO  (SAUROCTONOS). 
PRAXITELES:  VATICAN. 

See  pages  49,  61,  76,  136,  223,  28] 
not  onlv.  the  distinction 


REPRESENTING  BY  MEANS  OF  SNARE. 


49 


in  Fig.  19,  page  47,  and  the  yielding  and  graceful,  but  com- 
paratively weak  effect,  so  far  as  concerns  character,  pro- 
duced by  the  smooth  surfaces  of  Fig.  20,  page  48.  The 


FIG.  21.— THE  LAOCOON  GROUP. 

See  pages  49,  77,  174,  223,  281,  284,  285. 

forms  in  the  Laocoon,  Fig.  21,  page  49,  are  not  clothed  ; 
but  notice  the  feeling  of  energy  and  strength  conveyed  bv 
the  way  in  which  the  serpent  and  the  human  limbs  are 


50  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


projected  from  the  deep  shadows  which  the  arrangement 
of  them  necessitates.  The  same  is  true  of  Michael 
Angelo’s  statue  of  “ Giuliano  de’  Medici,  with  Figures  of 
Night  and  Day  ” (Fig.  170,  page  301).  Notice  in  this  that 
not  only  the  arrangement  of  the  limbs  but  of  all  the  sur- 
faces is  designed  to  bring  out  strongly  contrasting  effects 


FIG.  22.— GROUP  FROM  MAUSOLEUM  OF  MARIA  CHRISTINA.  CANOVA  AT  VIENNA. 

See  pages  50,  73,  263,  286. 

of  light  and  shade.  So,  too,  compare  the  strong,  energetic 
effect  of  the  high  relief  in  Fig.  22,  page  50,  with  the 
somewhat  less  strong  effect  in  the  lower  relief  in  Fig.  23, 
page  51,  and  the  weak  effect  where  there  is  no  relief 
at  all,  as  in  Fig.  5,  page  27.  As  Barry,  in  the  fifth  of 
the  “ Lectures  by  the  Royal  Academicians,”  says,  with 
reference  to  this  art  : “ In  groups  and  figures  in  the  round. 


REPRESENTING  BY  MEANS  OF  SNARE. 


51 


the  masses  of  li  ght  and  shade,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
agreeable  or  majestic  effect  of  the  work  in  all  its  possible 
views,  cannot  be  too  much  attended  to.  The  taste  of 
lines  and  harmonious  flow  of  the  parts  or  several  mem- 
bers of  the  work,  whether  a group  or  a single  figure,  their 
variety  and  their  combined  unity,  are  the  efficient  causes 
of  that  light  and  shade  which  give  ease  and  satisfaction 
to  the  eye  of  the  spectator,  and  engage  him,  as  it  were,  to 


FIQ.  23. — THE  SOLDIER’S  RETURN. 

(From  the  National  Monument  near  Bingen,  Germany.) 

See  pages  50,  286,  302. 

enter  into  the  contemplation  of  those  still  more  essential 
beauties  of  a higher  order,  which  result  from  the  sublime 
conception  of  the  form  and  character  and  the  graceful  or 
pathetic  expression  of  the  subject  . . . high  and  low 

rilievo,  perspectively  sinking  into  a proper  intaglio,  is 
capable  of  producing  the  sublimest  and  most 
wonderful  effects  in  sculpture.” 

The  same  is  true  as  applied  to  architecture  ; and  here, 
as  is  always  the  case  in  this  art,  by  way  mainly  of  associa- 


52  PAWN  TING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


tion.  Any  one  at  all  sensitive  to  aesthetic  effects,  will  feel, 
almost  at  a first  glance,  the  impression  of  strength  con- 
veyed by  the  pillars  of  the  Greek  temples,  as  in  Fig.  14, 
page  36,  or  by  the  pilasters  of  the  Renaissance  buildings, 
as  in  Fig.  196,  page  349;  or  by  the  butt  1 esses  of  the  Gothic 
cathedrals,  as  in  Fig.  41,  page  81  ; or  by  any  arrange- 


FIQ.  24.— OLD  SOUTH  CHURCH,  BOSTON. 
See  pages  35,  54,  84,  331,  380. 


ments,  perpendicular  or  vertical,  that  add  to  the  possibili- 
ties and  presence  of  shadows,  as  in  Fig.  12,  page  35,  Fig. 
13,  page  36,  or  Fig.  15,  page  37.  He  will  feel,  too,  the 
impression  of  a certain  amount  of  structural  weakness 
conveyed  by  plain  walls,  such  as  appear  in  Fig.  173,  page 


See  pages  35,  54,  84,  323,  334,  380. 


54  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

319,  Fig.  185,  page  338,  and  in  Fig.  190,  page  343.  A fav 
orable  opportunity  for  observing  the  difference  between 
these  two  effects  happens  to  be  afforded  in  Boston  by  two 
buildings  visible  from  the  same  square,  namely,  Trinity 
Church,  Fig.  25,  page  53,  and  the  old  South  Church, 
Fig.  24,  page  52.  The  masonry  of  both  may  be  equally 
strong,  but  in  Trinity  Church  the  heavy  projections — 
especially  the  pillars  over  the  front  door  that  necessitate 
foundation-walls  broad  enough  to  support  both  them  and 
the  wall  back  of  them,  as  well  as  the  attendant  shadows 
in  other  parts  of  the  building — suggest  that  nothing  short 
of  an  earthquake  could  cause  its  sides  to  tumble,  while, 
apparently,  a single  conflagration  might  entirely  prostrate 
those  of  the  other  church.  See  also  what  is  said  on  page 
331- 

“ As  the  great  poem  and  the  great  picture,”  says 
Ruskin,  in  his  “ Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,”  “ gener- 
ally affect  us  most  by  the  majesty  of  their  masses  of  light 
and  shade,  and  cannot  take  hold  of  us  if  they  affect  a con- 
tinuance of  lyric  sprightliness,  but  must  be  serious  often 
and  sometimes  melancholy,  else  they  do  not  express  the 
truth,  ...  I do  not  believe  that  ever  any  building 
was  truly  great  unless  it  had  mighty  masses,  vigorous  and 
deep,  of  shadow  mingled  with  ifs  surfaces.”  But  enough 
has  been  quoted  to  show  that  it  is  no  mere  whim  of  the 
present  writer  to  attribute  to  the  strength  or  weakness, 
firmness  or  indecision  of  outlines  in  connection  with  their 
accompanying  shadows,  a representation  of  the  degrees  of 
mental  strength  expended  by  the  artist,  or  of  material 
strength  manifested  by  the  factors  of  which  his  product 
is  composed. 


CHAPTER  V. 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHAPES,  CURVED, 
ANGULAR,  AND  BOTH  COMBINED. 

Meaning  and  Effect  of  Gradation  as  Applied  to  Outline — Effects  of  Gradation 
in  the  Arts  of  Sound — Corresponding  Effects  in  the  Arts  of  Sight — Three 
Methods  of  Describing  the  Outlines  of  a Form — Each  Method  Repre- 
sentative of  both  Mental  and  Material  Conditions — How  Drawing  by 
the  Hand  is  Representative  of  Instructive,  Reflective,  and  Emotive 
Mental  Conditions — How  the  Actions  of  the  Body  are  Representative  of 
the  Same — How  Appearances  in  Nature  are  Similarly  Representative 
to  the  Mind  of  the  Spectator — Curvature-Angularity — Straight  Lines 
Horizontality  and  Effects  of  Repose — Verticality  and  Effects  of  Eleva- 
tion arid  Aspiration — Mixed  Lines  and  Effects  of  Excitation — Illustra- 
tions from  Landscape  Gardening — From  Painting  and  Sculpture — 
Quotations  Confirming  these  Explanations  as  Applied  to  Painting — To 
Sculpture — Similar  Outlines  as  Used  in  Architecture — Their  Represen- 
tative Meanings : The  Rounded  Forms- — The  Straight  Lines  and 
Angles — The  Combinations  of  Both — Recapitulation. 

|\ | O W let  us  notice  the  differences  in  the  effects  of  touch 
* ' or  handling  produced  by  what,  on  page  1 5,  is  termed 
gradation.  This  term  is  used  in  art  to  indicate  the  relative 
degrees  of  change  through  which,  whether  gradually  or 
abruptly,  a factor  of  one  kind  is  made  to  pass  into  another 
of  a different  kind.  Sometimes  the  principle  is  applied 
to  the  arrangements  of  suggestions  introduced  into  a 
rhetorical  climax ; sometimes  to  the  arrangements  of 
light  and  shade  and  color ; and  sometimes  to  the 
arrangements  of  other  features.  Here,  as  was  shown 

55 


56  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


to  be  appropriate  on  pages  281  to  287  of  “ The 
Genesis  of  Art-Form,”  the  term  indicates  the  relative 
degrees  of  change  through  which  outlines  moving  in 
one  direction  are  made  to  pass  into  those  moving  in 
other  directions,  and,  all  together,  are  thus  made  to  in- 
close a space.  The  most  gradual  way  of  inclosing  a space 
is,  of  course,  through  the  use  of  a circle  or  curve.  A way 
somewhat  less  gradual,  is  through  a use  of  straight  lines 
combined  with  very  obtuse  angles,  as  in  an  octangle.  A 
still  less  gradual  way  is  through  a square  or  triangle  ; and, 
of  all  triangles,  the  least  gradual  is  one  containing  a very 
acute  angle.  As  will  be  noticed,  there  is  nothing  in  this 
kind  of  an  angle  that  resembles  a circle  ; but  the  general 
effect  of  an  octangle,  or  of  any  regular  figure  with  many 
sides  does  resemble  this.  At  the  same  time,  the  octagon’s 
actual  features- — straight  lines  and  angles — are  the  same, 
differently  arranged,  as  those  of  the  triangle.  Once  more, 
it  is  important  to  notice  that  a curve,  if  long  enough,  like 
that  encircling  the  world,  for  instance,  cannot  be  dis- 
tinguished from  a straight  line  ; nor  can  the  two  sides 
of  an  angle,  if  sharp  enough,  be  distinguished  from 
parallel  lines.  These  facts  render  it  possible  to  say  that 
between  the  extremes  of  longest  curvature  and  sharpest 
angularity,  as  applied  to  the  inclosure  of  spaces,  there 
may  be  included  not  only  all  conceivable  outlines 
formed  of  curves  and  angles,  but  also  of  straight  lines 
when  parallel. 

The  term  gradation  as  thus  used  to  indicate  the  way  in 
which  outlines  inclose  shapes,  is  the  same  as  is  applied  in 
Chapter  VI.  of  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art  ” to  a 
corresponding  effect  in  the  arts  of  sound.  This  corre- 
sponding effect  (see  page  16  of  the  present  volume)  is  pro- 
duced by  the  blending  of  tones  in  elocutionary  stress  and 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHARES.  57 


of  syllables  or  notes  in  poetical  or  musical  measures, 
measures  with  their  accents  contributing  to  the  general 
impression  produced  by  rhythm  precisely  as  do  measure- 
ments with  their  shadings  to  the  general  impression  pro- 
duced by  proportion.  Simply  because,  as  a rule,  single 
syllables  or  notes  cannot  constitute  measures,  nor  single 
lines,  i.  e.,  lines  moving  in  a single  direction,  all  that  is 
meant  by  measurements,  it  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  the 
method  of  gradation  through  which  the  syllables,  notes, 
or  lines  pass  into  one  another,  which  determines  the 
general  effect.  In  accordance  with  this  statement,  the 
impression  conveyed  by  measures  when  combined,  tends, 
as  indicated  on  page  1 7,  either  toward  a running  or,  as  we 
may  term  it,  a curved  effect,  as  in  initial  measure  termed 
by  the  Greeks  Trochee,  taken  from  the  word  Tpo^os,  a 
wheel,  e.  g.  : 

We  the  fairies  blithe  and  antic, 

Of  dimensions  not  gigantic  ; 

Though  the  moonshine  mostly  keep  us, 

Oft  in  orchards  frisk  and  peep  us. 

• — Fairies'  Song  : Thomas  Randolph.  ( Latin ). 

Trans,  by  Leigh  Hunt. 


Or  toward  a pushing,  puncturing,  effect,  as  in  terminal 
measure,  termed  by  the  Greeks  iambic  from  iamo,  to 
drive  forth,  shoot,  assail,  e.  g.  : 


Think  not,  thou  eagle  Lord  of  Rome, 

And  master  of  the  world, 

Though  victory’s  banner  o’er  thy  dome 
In  triumph  now  is  furled, 

I would  address  thee  as  thy  slave, 

But  as  the  bold  should  greet  the  brave. 

— Caractacus : Bernard  Barton. 


58  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Or  toward  a combination  of  both,  as  in  the  following, 
where  there  is  still  more  of  a running  or  swelling  effect, 
and  yet,  as  on  the  accented  syllables,  more  also  of  a push- 
ing or  puncturing  effect : 

I sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he, 

I galloped,  Dirk  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three. 

— How  They  Brought  the  Good  Nezvs  : Browning. 

Corresponding  effects  in  measurements  were  said  to 
cause  lines  to  describe  shapes,  gradually,  as  in  curves,  ab- 
ruptly, as  in  angles,  or  both  gradually  and  abruptly,  as  in 
combinations  of  the  two.  Now,  in  order  to  ascertain 
that  of  which  each  of  these  methods  is  representative,  let 
us  observe  certain  of  the  conditions  determining  or  ac- 
companying the  uses  of  each. 

While  doing  this,  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  are  led 
to  notice  three  facts,  each  applicable  to  conditions  both 
within  the  mind,  and  in  the  surrounding  world  outside  of  it. 
The  first  fact  is  that,  as  a form  is  complete  in  the  degree 
in  which  it  is  inclosed  upon  all  sides,  the  most  instinctive 
way — i.  e.,  the  way  involving  least  thought — in  which  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  the  form,  is  to  draw  outlines 
describing  some  sort  of  a curve,  beginning  and  ending  at 
the  same  point.  Moreover,  when  we  look  at  nature,  we 
find  many  objects,  like  plants,  rocks,  and  hills,  the  outlines 
of  which  can  apparently  be  described  in  this  same  general 
way.  The  second  fact  is,  that  only  after  we  have  begun 
to  reflect  a little  upon  the  possibilities  of  an  appearance 
do  we  make  its  outlines,  provided  they  are  to  inclose  a 
space,  describe  many  angles.  That  is  to  say,  using  angles 
thus,  necessitates  our  stopping  to  think  where  they  shall 
be.  Moreover,  an  angular  form,  when  completed,  sel- 
dom resembles  closely  anything  in  nature;  and  it  almost 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHAPES.  59 


never  does  this,  except  as  a result  of  imitation.  The  third 
fact  is,  that  still  another  way  of  drawing  outlines,  mainly 
determined  by  our  feelings  or  emotions , may  make  them 
partly  curved  and  partly  straight,  partly  rounded,  and 
partly  angular,  partly  tangent  and  partly  parallel ; and,  of 
course,  among  their  possibilities  may  be  included  an  imi- 
tation of  any  of  the  appearances  of  nature,  however  varied. 

Such  facts  of  themselves  are  enough  to  suggest  that 
there  is  a reason  why  outlines  of  each  of  these  three  kinds 
should  be  representative  of  both  mental  and  material  con- 
ditions. But  that  this  is  so,  can  be  brought  out  still  more 
clearly.  At  the  same  time,  too,  it  can  be  shown  why,  as 
stated  on  page  19,  the  difference  in  the  gradations  of  out- 
lines represents  mental  energy  rather  than  that  physical 
phase  of  energy  usually  represented  by  the  differences  in 
strength  or  accentuation  which  have  been  already  con- 
sidered. We  shall  find  that,  in  a sense  not  true  of  the 
mere  accentuation  of  outlines,  their  methods  of  passing 
one  into  another  represent,  on  the  one  hand,  effects  which 
are  due  to  conditions  of  thought  in  the  mind  of  the  artist, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  effects  which  appearances,  having 
these  outlines,  exert  upon  the  conditions  of  thought  in 
the  mind  of  the  spectator. 

That  the  effects  are  due  to  conditions  in  the  mind  of 
the  artist  may  be  perceived  by  drawing  at  hap-hazard  a 
large  number  of  long  lines  describing  shapes,  and  then 
examining  them,  and  the  ways  in  which  they  are  related 
to  one  another.  Upon  doing  this,  we  shall  find,  first, 
that,  in  the  degree  in  which  the  lines  have  been  dashed 
off  instinctively , i.  e .,  with  no  reflection,  the  natural  move- 
ment of  the  hand  has  caused  most  of  them  to  describe 
curves;  second,  that  in  the  degree  in  which  they  have 
been  the  results  of  reflection  they  show  a decided  ten- 


60  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

dency  toward  straightness,  necessitating,  of  course,  the 
use  of  angles  ; and,  third,  that  in  the  degree  in  which  they 
have  been  the  results  of  a restful,  in  the  sense  of  a pas- 
sive emotive  state,  the  curves  or  straight  lines  are  long,  the 

angles  few  and  sim- 
ilar, and  the  shapes 
comparatively  regu- 
lar ; but  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  they 
have  been  the  re- 
sults of  restlessness 
or  an  excited  emo- 
tive state,  both 
curves  and  angles 
are  many  and  di- 
vers, and  the  whole 
shapes  are  compara- 
tively irregular.  In 
fact,  as  a rule,  we  can 
recognize  at  once, 
upon  glancing  at 
shapes  thus  drawn, 
whether  a man  has 
made  them  without 
thought  or  with  it  ; 
or  whether  his  emo- 
tions have  been  in 
a state  of  restfulness 
or  of  excitement. 

Now  let  us  take  a broader  view  of  the  subject,  and  con- 
sider, as  related  to  representation,  the  action  not  merely 
of  a man’s  hand,  but  of  his  whole  body.  We  shall  find 
that,  in  the  degree  in  which  his  expression  is  instinctive 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHAPES.  6l 


in  the  sense  of  being  spontaneous  and  unconscious,  be- 
cause uninfluenced  or  unimpeded  by  conditions  that  come 
from  without,  his  gait,  postures,  and  gestures  all  tend  to 
assume  the  forms  of  free,  large,  graceful  curves.  See  Fig.  26, 
page  60;  also  Fig.  20, 
page  48  ; Fig.  34,  page 
7 1 5 and  Fig.  83,  page 
144.  But  in  the  degree 
in  which  his  expression 
is  reflective , in  the  sense 
of  being  made  respon- 
sive and  calculating  in 
order  to  meet  con- 
ditions from  without, 
especially  in  the  degree 
in  which  these  con- 
ditions check,  impede, 
and  embarrass  him,  and 
make  him  conscious  of 
this  fact,  or  self-con- 
scious, as  we  say, — in 
this  degree  we  shall  find 
that  his  bearing  is  stiff, 
constrained,  and  awk- 
ward, imparting  to  all 
his  movements  a ten-  F(Q_  27.— proposition  of  marriage. 
dency  to  assume  the  d.  chodowieck. 

forms  of  straight  lines  See  pages  61,  138, 147, 160, 161, 169,  175. 
and  angles.  See  the 

woman  in  Fig.  27,  page  61  ; also  the  positions  in  Fig. 
39,  page  79.  Both  these  extremes  are  emotive , as  is  all 
human  expression  (page  21);  but  sharp  angles  and  short 
curves  will  give  way  to  straighter  lines  and  longer  curves 


62  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^VZ>  ARCHITECTURE. 


moral  influence 
or  enthusiastic 


in  the  degree  in  which  outside  conditions  do  not  wholly 
overcome  a man’s  spontaneity,  but  cause  him  to  make 
his  instinctive  promptings  reflective,  as  in  exerting  the 
of  confident  assertion,  Fig.  28,  page  62  ; 
persuasion,  Fig.  2,  page  21,  and  Fig. 

84,  page  145.  But  angles 
will  predominate  in  the 
degree  in  which  he  is 
conscious  of  interfer- 
ence, as  in  supposed  op- 
position, whether  this 
be  mental,  as  in  Fig.  29, 
page  63  ; and  more  de- 
cidedly so,  as  in  Fig.  77 
page  135  ; or  material,  as 
in  Fig.  30,  page  64  ; and 
Fig.  58,  page  104;  or 
both  together,  as  in  the 
two  figures  at  the  front 
of  Fig.  39,  page  79  ; or 
as  in  fighting.  The  lat- 
ter condition  will  double 
up  his  frame  and  throw 
his  neck,  elbows,  knees, 
and  hips  into  shapes 
„„  ir.  r.r.i.r-r.'-nr  that  will  make  his  form 

FIG.  28.— THE  APOLLO  BELVEDERE. 

See  pages  62,  138,  147,  149,  1 5 1 , 224,  281.  the  best  possible  repre- 
sentation of  what  can  be 
described  by  only  the  term  angularity  ; yet  from  this 
appearance  in  such  cases,  curves  are  never  entirely  absent. 
See  Fig.  31,  page  65  ; also  Figs.  73  and  74,  page  132. 

So  much  for  the  meaning  of  outlines,  whether  sketched 
by  the  hand  or  assumed  by  the  body.  Now  let  us  notice 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHARES.  63 

how,  as  manifested  not  in  the  human  form  but  in  the  inani- 
mate appearances  of  nature  surrounding  it,  similar  outlines 
are  fitted  to  represent,  and  so  to  awaken,  corresponding 
conceptions  in  the  mind  of  the  spectator.  The  curve  has 
been  ascribed  to  the  instinctive , or,  as  we  may  term  it, 
the  physically  normal  action  of  the  human  form.  Is  there 
any  truth  in  the  supposition  that  similar  appearances  ex- 
ternal to  man  may  be  ascribed  to  sources  similar  in  charac- 


FIQ.  29.— AUTHOR  AND  CRITICS.  H.  STACY  MARKS,  R.A. 
See  pages  62,  151,  152,  156,  172,  173,  177,  178,  270. 


ter?  Why  should  there  not  be  ? The  eye  itself  is  circular, 
and  the  field  of  vision  which  it  views,  at  any  one  moment, 
always  appears  to  be  the  same.  So  does  the  horizon  and 
the  zenith,  and  so,  too,  do  most  of  the  objects  that  they 
contain — the  heaving  mountain,  the  rising  smoke  or  vapor^ 
the  rolling  wave,  the  gushing  fountain,  the  rippling  stream, 
even  the  bubbles  of  its  water  and  the  pebbles  of  its  chan- 


FIG.  30.— LINES  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  ACTION.  W.  CRANE. 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHAPES.  65 


nel,  and  every  tree,  plant,  and  animal,  whether  at  rest  or 
in  motion.  For  this  reason,  curves,  wherever  seen,  neces- 
sarily suggest  more  or  less  of  that  which  is  normal,  or,  as 
applied  to  natural  animate  life,  of  that  which  has  the 
buoyancy,  freedom,  and  joyousness  which  we  instinctively 
associate  with  the  possession  of  this.  See  the  forms  at 
the  right  of  Fig.  32,  page  67. 

The  straight  line  with  its  accompanying  angles  we  have 
found  to  be  produced  by  a man  chiefly  as  a result  of  the 
reflective  action  of  his  mind.  How  is  it  with  similar 
effects  in  the  appearances  surround- 
ing him  ? Do  not  rectangles  with 
their  straight,  parallel  sides  (devel- 
oped from  angularity,  page  56),  as  in 
buildings  and  in  so  many  other  ob- 
jects made  by  men,  invariably  suggest 
results  of  construction,  and,  there- 
fore, of  reflection  expended  upon 
them?  Nor  are  such  suggestions 
confined  to  objects  with  reference  to 
which  a man’s  interference  with  the 
normal  action  of  nature  is  unmistak- 
able. By  way  of  association,  the  Seepages 62, 145, 167, 171. 
horizontal  hilltop,  the  sharply  per- 
pendicular cliff,  the  pointed  peak,  cause  us  to  think  and 
often  to  say  that  they  look  precisely  as  if  a man  had 
been  at  work  upon  them,  levelling  or  blasting.  Few 
natural  objects,  indeed,  have  outlines  absolutely  straight 
or  angular  ; but  always,  in  the  degree  in  which  they  are 
so,  the  impression  naturally  produced  by  curves,  which 
is  that  of  a growth  outward  from  normal  vitality  within, 
is  lessened.  We  feel  that  life  has  in  some  way  been 
literally  blasted.  As  a rule,  it  is  the  great  convulsions 
5 


66  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

of  nature,  whether  produced  by  fire,  frost,  wind,  or 
earthquake,  that  leave  behind  them,  if  their  progress  can 
be  traced  at  all,  such  results  of  crystallizing,  cracking,  and 
rending,  as  are  manifested  in  straight  lines  and  angles. 
Notice  these  at  the  left  of  Fig.  32,  page  67.  No  wonder, 
therefore,  that  wherever  seen  they  are  associated  in  our 
minds  with  the  work  of  extraneous  force  acting  upon  the 
forms  from  the  outside,  as  the  volcano  does  when  it  rends 
the  rocks  and  throws  the  lava  through  and  over  them,  and 
as  the  tempest  does,  when  it  bends  the  trees  and  tears  off 
their  branches.  Notice,  again,  Fig.  17,  page  43. 

Now  let  us  consider  the  possibilities  of  emotive  effects 
between  these  two  extremes  of  form  (see  page  1 1).  When, 
notwithstanding  curves  or  angles,  the  general  appearance 
of  a shape  approximates  that  of  straight,  parallel  lines,  it 
must  be  then  (see  page  65)  that  the  appearance  is  most 
suggestive  of  reflective  influences.  This  being  so,  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  lines  are  long  and  absolutely  straight, 
they  must  suggest  reflection  or  thought  of  the  most  un- 
changing as  well  as  distinctive  character,  as  in  persistence , 
seriousness,  or  dignity.  Now  notice  that  these  straight 
lines  may  tend  to  be  either  horizontal  or  vertical.  Does  it 
require  any  argument  to  show  that,  if  horizontal,  they 
are  suggestive  of  persistence,  seriousness,  or  dignity  in  re- 
pose, and,  if  vertical,  of  the  same  in  activity?  What  is  so 
firmly  fixed  in  position  as  a long  straight  beam,  lying  flat 
on  the  ground  ; and  what  is  so  hard  to  get  or  even  to 
keep  in  position  as  the  same  placed  vertically  ? It  is 
strictly  in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  correspondence, 
therefore,  that  the  former  should  represent  restfulness,  and 
the  latter  difficulty  overcome  by  effort,  and,  if  through 
human  agency,  by  human  effort,  or  by  that  in  the  soul 
which  makes  the  effort  possible.  For  this  reason,  there- 


FIQ.  32.— TISSINQTON  SPIRES,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  65,  66,  70,  72,  259,  399. 


68  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  A RCHITECTURE. 


fore,  as  well  as  because,  by  pointing  upward,  it  carries  the 
thought  upward  (which  is  the  ordinary  way  of  explaining 
the  effect),  the  vertical  line  may  be  said  to  represent  aspi- 
ration and  elevation  of  aim.  Of  course,  too,  because  com- 
posed of  lines  very  nearly  vertical,  sharp  angles  pointing 
upward,  as  in  Gothic  window-caps  and  spires,  represent 
the  same.  Observe,  too,  how  in  this  architectural  style 
the  parallelism  of  the  vertical  lines  repeats  and  emphasizes 
the  emotive  effect  due  to  their  directions,  and  augments 
it  by  regularity.  See  page  74  and  Chap.  VI. 

Curves  and  angles,  when  their  lines  are  greatly  broken, 
suggest  the  changing  and  transient,  and  also,  when  crossed, 
the  complex.  Because  complex,  they  are  perplexing;  and 
provided  they  are  nevertheless  disposed  in  such  ways  as 
to  render  the  fact  of  some  design  indisputable,  they  are 
exciting,  as  far  as  lines  can  be  so,  to  the  imagination,  con- 
stantly stimualting  it,  as  they  do,  to  solve  the  mystery  of 
their  mode  of  arrangement.  Such  being  their  effects,  one 
would  expect  to  find  the  natural  forms  characterized  by 
them  proving  more  exciting  to  the  emotions  than  those 
already  considered.  And  when  we  examine  the  appear- 
ances about  us,  is  not  this  exactly  what  we  do  find?  Is 
it  not  when  complicated  curves  and  angles  outline  natural 
trifles  that  they  fascinate  and  make  men  imitate  them  in 
their  curios?  Is  it  not  when  curves,  straight  lines  and 
angles  join  in  natural  forms  of  grander  import,  when  the 
tree  and  bush  are  wreathed  about  the  precipice,  when  the 
dome-like  mountain  and  the  rolling  cloud  lift  above  the 
sharp  peak  and  cloven  crag,  and  far  below  them  lies  the 
flat  plain  or  lake, — is  it  not  then,  in  connection  with 
such  combinations,  that  the  most  exciting  appeal  is  made 
through  the  emotions  to  the  imagination  ? 

That  the  facts  are  as  here  suggested,  will  be  evident  to 
any  one  who  will  make  a careful  study  of  the  subtle  effects 


FIG.  33.— REPOSE  IN  LANDSCAPE  AND  FIGURE.  W.  CRANE. 


/O  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


upon  the  mind  of  different  scenes  in  nature,  and  of  the 
imitations  of  them  in  art.  Indeed,  a slight  indication  of 
what  is  meant  may  be  observed  in  Fig.  32,  page  67.  In 
this  place  a good  way,  perhaps,  of  discovering  the  repre- 
sentative capabilities  of  these  different  appearances,  is  to 
recall  the  use  that  is  made  of  them  by  the  landscape 
gardener.  Is  it  not  a fact  that,  in  case  he  desire  to  direct 
attention  to  the  beauty  of  nature  in  itself,  i.  e.,  to  the 
capabilities  of  nature  with  the  least  possible  suggestion  of 
the  intervention  of  a human  mind, — -that  in  this  case  his 
plans  will  develop  into  gradually  rising  mounds  and  cir- 
cuitous drives,  winding  among  trees  and  shrubs  planted 
in  clusters  but  not  in  rows?  On  the  contrary,  if  he  desire 
to  produce  a distinctly  different  impression,  causing 
thought  to  revert  from  nature  to  man,  either  to  the  artist 
who  has  arranged  things  as  they  are,  or  to  the  resident  or 
visitor  for  whose  convenience  or  guidance  they  have  been 
so  arranged,  then  will  he  not  plan  for  distinctly  different 
effects,  as  in  the  long  avenue  bordered  with  its  rows  of 
trees,  or  in  the  terrace,  or  the  hedge,  or  the  flower  garden 
with  straight  and  rectangular  pathways  ? Or,  once  more,  if 
he  desire  to  produce  more  emotional  impressions  by  means 
of  which  the  observer  may  be  drawn  more  into  sympathy 
with  his  designs  and  the  ingenuity  of  them,  will  he  not 
make  more  use  of  variety  and  contrast,  combining  the 
winding  walks  of  the  ramble  with  sharp  angles,  perpen- 
dicular rocks  with  rounded  moss  banks,  or  shooting  cata- 
racts with  still  pools  ? 

Is  it  strange  that  similar  principles  should  apply  to 
painting  and  sculpture?  Notice,  again,  the  effect  of  the 
gentle  curves  in  Fig.  18,  page  45,  and  at  the  right  of 
Fig.  32,  page  67.  Notice,  too,  those  in  Fig.  33,  page  69. 
How  clearly  indicative  they  are  of  an  internal,  spoil- 


See  pages  61,  72,  136,  265,  272. 


72  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

taneous,  normal  development  of  natural  formation  ! 
Observe,  also,  the  allied  instinctive  human  expression  of 
the  same  in  the  buoyancy,  freedom,  and  joyousness  ex- 
pressed by  the  curves  in  Fig.  26,  page  60,  also  in  Fig. 
34,  page  7 1.  Now  recall  the  results  of  extraneous  ab- 


FIQ.  35.— ADORATION  OF  THE  MAGI.  P.  VERONESI. 

Seepages  73,  174,  263,  276. 


normal  influences,  first,  as  exerted  by  natural  forces,  as  in 
Fig.  17,  page  43,  and  at  the  left  of  Fig.  32,  page  67;  and, 
second,  as  exerted  by  the  allied  reflective  agency  of  man, 
as  in  Fig.  30,  page  64.  Once  more,  look  at  the  effects 
of  repose  as  suggested,  first,  by  the  horizontality  of  the 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHAPES.  73 


arrangements  of  natural  scenery  in  Fig.  18,  page  45,  and, 
second,  with  more  reflective  design,  by  the  human  figure 
in  connection  with  scenery,  as  in  Fig.  33,  page  69.  Con- 
trast with  this  the  aspiration  expressed  by  the  verticality 
of  the  lines  in  Fig.  9,  page  33  ; and,  owing  to  the  non- 
natural arrangement  in  a regular  row,  the  more  humanly 
thoughtful  and  reflective  suggestion  of  the  same  in  Fig. 
44,  page  85.  Notice,  too,  the  same  impression  as  clearly 
conveyed  by  the  whole  form  in  Fig.  2,  page  21,  and  more 
subtly  conveyed  by  the  extended  limb  of  the  angel  in 
Fig.  22,  page  50.  Finally,  observe,  in  connection  with 
the  many  curves  which  impart  a suggestion  of  instinctive 
freedom  to  the  mode  of  expression,  the  same  reflective 
and  hence  serious,  dignified,  aspiration  suggested  by  the 
upward  lines  in  Fig.  35,  page  72.  The  united  effects 
in  it  of  curves  and  long  upward  lines,  make  it  a fine  il- 
lustration of  that  blending  of  the  instinctive  and  reflective 
tendencies  which,  on  page  1 1,  was  said  to  be  the  condition 
of  emotive  expression. 

Though  differently  explained,  the  effects  of  these  forms 
have  usually  been  recognized  to  be  as  thus  stated.  Charles 
Blanc,  for  instance,  in  his  “ Grammar  of  Painting  and  En- 
graving,” translated  by  R.  N.  Doggett,  says  : “ In  the 
choice  of  the  great  lines,  a certain  character  should  be 
dominant.  . . . Straight  or  curved,  horizontal  or  ver- 

tical, parallel  or  divergent,  all  the  lines  have  a secret  rela- 
tion to  the  sentiment.”  John  Ruskin,  too,  recalling 
several  instances  in  which  prominent  features  of  certain 
of  Turner’s  pictures  are  arranged  along  a framework  of 
curved  lines,  speaks  of  these  as  being  the  ones  most  fre- 
quently found  in  nature  ; and  in  “ Winkleman’s  Ancient 
Art,”  he  says  that  as  they  “ are  more  beautiful  than  straight 
lines,  it  is  necessary  ” — too  strong  a word  to  use  except 


74  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


when  making  an  application  to  landscape — “ to  a good 
composition  that  its  continuities  of  object  mass  or  color 
should  be,  if  possible,  in  curves  rather  than  in  straight 
lines  or  angular  ones.”  “ In  the  spectacles  of  the  world,” 
says  Charles  Blanc  in  the  work  just  quoted,  “as  in  the 
human  figure,  in  painting,  or  in  architecture,  the  straight 
lines  correspond  to  a sentiment  of  austerity  and  force,  and 
give  to  a composition  in  which  they  are  repeated,  a grave, 
imposing,  rigid  aspect.”  This  is  the  same,  of  course,  as 
to  say  that  these  lines,  together  with  the  angles  that  neces- 
sarily accompany  them,  represent  not  the  free,  buoyant, 
joyous  conceptions  conveyed  by  curves,  but  constrained, 
grave,  and  serious  conceptions.  In  connection  with  this, 
the  same  writer  indicates  the  representative  suggestions 
of  the  two  general  directions  in  which  these  lines,  when 
emphasized  by  the  repetitions  of  parallelism,  may  point. 
“ The  horizontals,”  he  says,  “which  express  in  nature  the 
calmness  of  the  sea,  the  majesty  of  the  far-off  horizon, 
the  vegetal  tranquillity  of  the  strong  resisting  trees,  the 
quietude  of  the  globe  after  the  catastrophes  that  have  up- 
heaved  it,  motiveless,  eternal  duration — the  horizontals  in 
painting  express  analogous  sentiments,  the  same  character 
of  eternal  repose,  of  peace,  of  duration.  . . . Witness 
the  ‘ Testament  of  Eudamidas  ’ ; in  it,  Poussin  has  re- 
peated the  horizontal  lines.  Lying  upon  his  death-bed 
the  citizen  of  Corinth  forms  the  dominant  line  of  the  ar- 
rangement. The  lance  of  the  hero  repeats  this  line,  and, 
prostrate  like  him,  seems  condemned  to  the  repose  of  his 
master,  and  to  affirm  a second  time  his  death.”  Again 
referring  to  the  vertical  lines,  he  says  : “ Look  now  at 
‘ The  Life  of  Saint  Bruno,’  by  Lesueur.  . . . The  sol- 
emnity of  the  religious  sentiment,  which  is  an  ascending 
aspiration,  is  expressed  in  it  by  the  dominant  repetition 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHARES.  75 


and  parallelism  of  the  verticals  ; and  this  parallelism,  which 
would  be  only  monotony  if  the  painter  had  had  other  per- 
sonages to  put  upon  the  canvas,  becomes  an  expressive 
repetition  when  it  is  necessary  to  render  apparent  the  re- 
spect and  uniformity  of  the  monastic  rule,  the  silence, 
meditation,  renunciation  of  the  cloister.”  Once  more,  in 
language  applying  accurately  to  only  what  we  have  here 
termed  mixed  lines,  consisting  of  both  curves  and  angles 


FIG.  36.— THE  RAPE  OF  THE  SABINES.  N.  POUSSIN. 

See  pages  46,  75,  87. 


though  often  angularity  alone  is  attributed  to  them,  he 
says  : “ If  it  be  necessary  to  represent  a terrible  idea, — 
for  instance  that  of  the  last  judgment,  . . . such  sub- 

jects demand  lines  vehement,  impetuous,  and  moving. 
Michael  Angelo  covers  the  wall  of  the  Sistine  chapel  with 
contrasting  and  flamboyant  lines.  Poussin  torments  and 
twists  his  in  the  pictures  of  ‘ Pyrrhus  Saved  ’ and  ‘ The 
Sabines  ’ (Fig.  36,  page  75),  and  the  linear  modes  employed 


j6  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

by  these  masters  are  examples  of  the  law  to  be  followed, 
that  of  bringing  back  with  decision  to  their  dominant 
character  the  whole  of  the  great  lines,  that  is  to  say,  the 
first  means  of  expression,  arrangement.” 

“ In  the  ancient  Greek  sculptures,”  says  Long  in  his  “Art, 
its  Laws,  and  the  Reasons  for  Them,”  “ a correspondence 

between  the  disposition  of 
the  figure  and  the  sentiment 
of  the  subject  will  always 
be  found.  . . . Minerva’s 

position  being  perpendicu- 
lar and  her  drapery  descend- 
ing in  long  uninterrupted 
lines  [Fig.  37,  page  76,  also 
Fig.  19,  page  47],  while  a 
thousand  amorous  curves 
embrace  the  limbs  of  Flora 
and  Venus  [see  Figs.  38, 
page  77 ; 20,  page  48  ; and 
149,  page  224],  the  plain, 
the  simple,  the  dignified, 
and  the  intellectual  being 
the  sentiment  of  the  one  ; 
the  light,  the  gay,  and  the 
sensual  the  sentiment  of  the 
other.  And  if  the  senti- 
ment which  animates  them 
be  of  a very  exciting  and 
passionate  character,  the  movements  become  more  quick 
and  the  forms  more  angularized  ” — a statement  which,  as 
will  be  made  clear  in  a moment,  includes,  as  this  word 
usually  does  when  thus  used,  more  than  the  mere  idea  of 
angles.  “ It  is  in  obedience  to  this  principle,”  he  goes 


FIQ.  37.— ATHENA  OF  THE  CAPITOL. 

See  pages  76,  224,  281. 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHARES.  77 


on  to  say,  “ that  Raphael  acted  when,  in  his  cartoon  of 
‘The  Delivery  of  the  Keys  to  St.  Peter,’  he  employed, 
as  did  the  sculptor  of  Minerva,  the 
influence  of  simple  forms,”  i.  e.,  sim- 
ple as  distinguished  from  mixed, 

“ to  express  and  produce  the  senti- 
ment of  the  character  introduced 
and  the  natural  effects  of  that 
scene ; and  the  same  too  in  the 
Ananias  (see  Fig.  39,  page  79) 
among  the  figures  distributing  and 
receiving  alms,  whilst,  in  obedience 
to  this  rule,  he  has  resorted  to  the 
adverse  system  of  angular  forms  and 
abrupt  contrasts,”  i.  e.,  to  mixed 
lines,  curved  and  straight,  “ to  por- 
tray distress  and  convulsion  in  the 
dying  man,  and  astonishment  and 
dismay  in  the  figures  that  imme- 
diately surround  him.”  So,  too, 
an  application  of  the  same  general 
principles  is  made  in  these  words  of 
an  unnamed  writer  quoted  by  Barry 
in  the  “ Lectures  of  the  Royal 
Academicians  ” : “ In  the  Laocoon 
[Fig.  21,  page  49],  the  convex  lines 
predominate  and  the  forms  are 
angular,  as  well  where  they  indent 
or  fall  in  as  where  they  swell  out,  fig.  cs.— venus  de’  medici. 

by  which  means  the  agitation  of  the  See  PaSes  76,  I38,  142,  223, 
■r  . j >>  225,  281. 

expression  is  manifested. 

Simple  imitation,  even  aside  from  any  desire  to  repre- 
sent, will  usually  cause  a close  observer  to  regard 


78  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


these  principles  when  depicting  natural  scenery  or 
human  figures;  but  they  are  equally  applicable  when 
constructing  buildings.  The  most  ordinarily  accepted 
classification  made  of  the  different  styles  of  these  is 
according  to  their  bridging  of  openings  or  spaces 
by  straight  lines,  curves,  or  angles,  which  three  methods 
are  supposed  to  indicate  the  differences  between  the 
architecture  of  the  Greek  horizontal  entablature,  of  the 
Byzantine  or  Romanesque  round  arch,  and  of  the  Gothic 
pointed  arch.1  But  notice  that  straight  lines  abound  in  all 
these  forms,  the  horizontal  ones  in  Greek  architecture 
being  no  more  prominent  than  the  vertical  ones  in  Gothic 
architecture.  It  is  well  to  observe,  too,  that  of  all  archi- 
tecture appealing  to  the  emotions  the  latter  does  this  in 
the  most  powerfully  effective  way,  for  the  reason  not 
often  noticed  that  in  it  alone  is  it  customary  to  blend 
all  the  possibilities  of  outline.  Sometimes  there  are  no 
prominent  curves  in  Greek  buildings,  see  Fig.  14,  page  36. 
Sometimes,  too,  there  are  no  sharp  forms  in  Byzantine 
or  the  allied  Romanesque  buildings.  See  Fig.  40,  page 
80,  also  Fig.  15,  page  37.  But  in  Gothic  buildings  there 
is  invariably  a blending  of  both.  Moreover,  as  if  also  to 
emphasize  the  existence  of  both,  each  form  is  developed 
to  excess,  the  curves  being  made  particularly  round  and 
the  angles  particularly  sharp.  See  Fig.  41,  page  8l,also 
Fig.  220,  page  392. 

Now  what  is  the  architectural  significance  of  a predomi- 
nance of  each  of  these  methods  of  bringing  outlines  to- 
gether, namely,  through  curves,  through  angles,  or  through 
both  in  combination  ? Is  this  difficult  to  determine  ? To 
begin  with,  what  is  the  shape  most  instinctively  produced 
by  the  creatures  below  man,  when  they  indulge  in  con- 


1 See  note  at  bottom  of  page  378. 


FIG-  39.— THE  DEATH  OF  ANANIAS.  CARTOON  BY  RAPHAEL. 


So  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


struction  ? What  is  the  shape  of  ant-hills,  birds’  nests,  or 
beavers’  dams?  What  is  the  shape  of  that  which  a man 
constructs  in  the  forest  when  he  breaks  off  the  limbs  of 
the  trees,  and,  binding  them  together,  builds  himself 
something  in  which  to  sleep  ? Rounded,  curved,  is  it  not  ? 
The  huts  represented  in  Chapter  XX.  of  this  book  are  all 
symmetrical,  and  so  would  be  recognized  at  once  as  pro- 
ducts of  man  ; but  which  of  them  should  we  be  most 


FIQ.  40.— OLD  PICTURE  OF  ST.  SOPHIA,  CONSTANTINOPLE. 

See  pages  78  82,  86,  380. 


likely  to  imagine  to  have  been  constructed  by  some  more 
intelligent  animal  ? Would  it  not  be  those  in  Fig.  2 1 2 page 
379.  And  which  should  we  first  recognize  as  the  products 
of  a man  ? Would  it  not  be  those  in  Fig.  208,  page  374,  and 
Fig.  214,  page  383,  and  this  because  of  the  use  made  in  them 
of  straight  lines  and  angles  ? The  same  principle  holds  good 
with  reference  to  buildings  of  a more  elaborate  character; 
though  it  must  not  be  overlooked  that,  in  the  degree  in 
which  any  forms  are  artificially  elaborated  they  come  to 


8i  FIG.  41. — COLOGNE  CATHEDRAL — FAQADE. 

See  pages  35,  52,  78,  82,  84,  86,  323.  380,  405. 


82 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


have  complex  and  therefore  (see  page  1 1)  stronger  emotive 
effects.  But,  as  applied  to  the  predominating  or  germinal 
shapes  in  such  buildings,  is  it  not  true  that  the  impression 
conveyed  by  any  rounded  arch,  as  in  a bridge  for  instance, 
is  that  the  small  stones  available  have  been  made  to  span 
the  space  under  it  in  accordance  with  a natural  law  which 
needs  only  to  be  perceived  by  the  builder  in  order  to  be 
instinctively  fulfilled  by  him  ? And  if  this  be  so,  is  it  not 
logical  to  infer  that  all  such  forms  can  cause  one  to  asso- 
ciate their  appearance  with  a fulfilment  of  natural  law? 
Do  not  their  curved  outlines  make  Figs.  40,  43,  and  even 
41  look  as  if,  according  to  natural  law,  they  grew  into  shape 
in  a sense  not  true  of  Fig.  42  ? Possibly,  therefore,  there 
is  a reason  why  rounded  doorways,  as  in  Fig.  15,  page  3 7, 
and  bending  domes,  as  in  Fig.  12,  page  35,  should  have 
seemed  to  so  many  in  so  many  different  lands  appropriate 
to  represent  not  only,  as  stated  on  page  38,  a place  in  which 
crowds  are  expected  to  gather,  but  also  a centre  from  which 
emanates  the  authority  of  law,  either  civil,  as  from  a state 
capitol  or  courthouse,  or  spiritual,  as  from  a cathedral. 

Again  when  as  in  Fig.  42  we  find  buildings  showing  no 
such  desire  to  accommodate  the  methods  of  construction  to 
the  requirements  of  natural  law,  as  is  apparent  in  the  round 
arch,  but  rather  a determination,  on  the  part  of  a man,  to 
erect  something  designed  by  himself  without  any  special 
regard  for  these  requirements,  as  is  the  case  wherever  we 
see  a predominance  of  straight  lines  and  angles,  then  is  it 
not  true,  as  indicated  on  page  65,  that  the  impression 
mainly  conveyed  is  that  of  a form  due  to  human  reflection  ? 
Moreover,  if,  in  connection  with  this  general  impression, 
the  predominating  lines  be  horizontal,  and  the  angles  flat, 
so  as  to  produce,  so  far  as  angles  can,  an  effect  of  horizon- 
tality,  is  it  not  true  that,  combined  with  the  seriousness 


83 


FIG.  42.— THE  RUSSIAN  CHURCH  AT  PARIS. 

See  pages  82,  84.  86,  323. 


84  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


and  dignity  suggested  by  straight  lines,  they 


resent 


FIG.  43.— INTERIOR  OF  BEVERLEY  MINSTER, 
ENGLAND. 

See  pages  32,  82,  84,  380,  388,  399,  405. 


repose  1 


rep- 

No- 


tice  the  general  effect 
of  the  horizontal  enta- 
blatures, window-caps 
or  string-courses  in 
Fig.  14,  page  36,  Fig. 
J92,page345;Fig.  197, 
page35°,Fig.  198,  page 
351,  and  Fig.  203,  page 
365.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  predomina- 
ting lines  be  vertical, 
and  the  angles,  by  be- 
ing sharp,  aid  the  effect 
of  verticality,  is  it  not 
true  that,  combined 
with  the  seriousness 
and  dignity  suggested 
by  straight  lines,  they 
represent  elevation  of 
soul  or  aspiration  ? 
See  Figs.  24,  page  52  ; 
25>  page  53  ; 4b  page 
81  ; 42,  page  83 ; and 
43>  page  84.  Observe 
also  what  a close  re- 
semblance there  is  be- 
tween the  general  ef- 
fect of  the  trees  in  Fig. 
44,  page  85,  and  of  the 
columns  and  ceiling  in 

Fig.  43.  page  84. 


85 


. FIG.  44.— AVENUE  OF  PALMS  AT  RIO  DE  JANEIRO. 

See  pages  32,  73  84,  399.  403. 


86  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Once  more,  when  we  look  at  buildings  in  which  the 
curves  as  well  as  straight  lines  are  prominent,  as  in  Fig. 
43>  Page  ^4  ; or  in  which  curves,  straight  lines  and  angles, 
all  three,  are  prominent,  as  in  Fig.  41,  page  81  (notice  the 
long  curve  from  base  to  spire  in  its  general  contour),  can 
we  not  perceive  a more  aesthetic  emotive  effect  than  in  a 
building  in  which,  as  in  Fig.  42,  page  83,  the  curves  are 
greatly  subordinated  ? And  in  buildings  in  which  either 
curves,  angles,  or  straight  lines  are  combined  in  excess 
of  what  are  needed,  as  is  often  the  case  in  both  Greek 
and  Gothic  architecture,  where  columns,  entablatures,  or 
arches,  are  introduced  and  are  all  shaped  alike  evidently 
for  the  purpose  of  ornament  alone,  and  to  enhance,  by 
way  of  correspondence,  the  appearance  of  artistic  unity, 
then  is  it  not  true  that  the  forms  represent  a special  ap- 
peal to  the  msthetic  emotions  ? See  Figs.  14,  page  36  ; 15, 
page  37;  40,  page  80;  and  41  page  81.  Does  not  Ruskin 
in  the  following,  taken  from  his  “ Lectures  on  Architecture 
and  Painting,”  refer  to  an  effect  which  we  feel  to  be  ascrib- 
able  to  all  such  forms  of  architecture,  but  especially,  per- 
haps for  reason  given  on  page  78,  to  the  Gothic  ? “ I do 
not  speak,”  he  says,  "‘of  your  scenery.  I do  not  ask  you 
how  much  you  feel  that  it  owes  to  the  grey  battlements 
that  frown  through  the  woods  of  Craig  Millar,  to  the 
pointed  turrets  that  flank  the  front  of  Holyrood,  or  to 
the  massy  keeps  of  your  Crichtown  and  Boothwick  and 
other  border  towns,  but  look  merely  through  your  poetry 
and  romances ; take  away  out  of  your  border  ballads 
the  word  tower  whenever  it  occurs,  and  the  ideas  con- 
nected with  it,  and  what  will  become  of  the  ballads? 
See  how  Sir  Walter  Scott  cannot  even  get  through  a 
description  of  Highland  scenery  without  helps  from 
the  idea: 

‘ Each  purple  peak,  each  flinty  spire.’ 


GRADATION  IN  THE  OUTLINES  OF  SHARES.  8 7 

That  strange  and  thrilling  interest  with  which  such  words 
strike  you  as  are  in  any  wise  connected  with  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, as  for  instance,  vault,  arch,  spire,  pinnacle, 
battlement,  porch,  and  myriads  of  such  others — words 
everlastingly  poetical  and  powerful  wherever  they  occur— 
is  a most  true  and  certain  index  that  the  things  them- 
selves are  delightful  to  you,  and  will  ever  continue  to 
be  so.” 

In  this  chapter,  examining  the  two  methods  through 
which  a line  moving  in  one  direction  is  made  to  pass  into 
another  direction,  we  have  found  that  the  continuity  of 
the  curve  suggests  the  physically  instinctive,  natural,  or 
normal,  the  result  of  unconstrained  expression  in  man,  or 
of  unresisted  growth  in  nature ; and  that  the  straight  line 
bent  into  an  angle  suggests  the  mentally  reflective,  arti- 
ficial, or  non-normal,  the  result  of  enforced  contrivance 
in  man  or  of  external  force  in  nature  ; while  both  methods 
mixed  suggest  an  emotive  influence  exerted  or  ex- 
perienced. This  influence  seems  greatest  in  the  degree 
in  which  the  mixture  is  greatest,  and  may  indicate,  ac- 
cording to  the  character  of  the  forms  represented,  either 
physical  excitation,  as  in  Fig.  36,  page  75  ; or  fanciful,  as 
in  complicated  ornamentation.  In  the  degree  in  which 
the  mixture  is  least,  and  the  forms  are  most  nearly  simple, 
the  emotive  excitation  seems  least,  inclining  toward  the 
instinctive  and  natural,  if  manifested  chiefly  in  long  unin- 
volved curves,  and  toward  the  reflective  and  rational,  if 
chiefly  in  straight  lines  and  angles  (see  page  66).  Closely 
corresponding  to  these  respective  emotive  effects,  are 
those  that  will  be  noticed  in  the  chapter  following, 
though  it  must  not  be  thought  that  either  mixture  or 
curvature  is  necessarily  irregular,  or  that  either  simplicity 
or  straightness  with  angles  is  necessarily  the  opposite. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES:  RADIATION,  PARALLELISM, 

CIRCLES,  AND  OVALS. 

Regularity  as  Applied  to  Sizes  and  Shapes — Frame  work  of  Lines  on  which 
Art-Products  are  Constructed — Plow  this  Accords  with  the  Require- 
ments of  Nature  in  General,  as  in  Radiation  or  Central-Point — As  in 
Setting — As  in  Parallelism — Also  with  the  Requirements  of  Individual 
Objects  in  Nature — This  Framework  Accords  with  the  Requirements 
of  both  Mental  Conception  and  Material  Appearance — Significance  of 
Regularity  and  Irregularity  in  Representations  of  the  Mind — Of  Ex- 
ternal Natural  Phenomena — Blending  of  Regularity  and  Irregularity  in 
the  Human  Form  andFace — As  judged  byan  Ideal  Framework — ItsVer- 
tical  Lines — Its  Horizontal  Lines— Facial  Regularity  does  not  Involve 
Sameness — Slight  Departures  from  it  not  Inconsistent  with  a Degree  of 
Beauty — Great  Departures  Allowable  for  the  Sake  of  Expression  or 
Contrast — Necessity  of  Considering  Differences  and  Deviations  in  Regu- 
larity Especially  as  Manifested  in  the  Innate  and  Assumed  Appearances 
of  Men. 

rEHE  significance  of  the  gradations  of  curvature  or 
angularity  through  which  outlines  are  made  to 
describe  shapes,  cannot  be  fully  understood  except  in  con- 
nection with  the  third  way  in  which  they  have  been  said 
to  be  made  representative,  namely,  regularity.  This  is  a 
result,  primarily,  of  like  effects  produced  by  measurements, 
just  as  in  poetry  and  music  it  is  a result  of  like  effects 
produced  by  measures.  As  outlines  limit  both  extent 
and  shape,  these  like  effects  may  be  produced  by  resem- 
blances either  in  the  one  or  in  the  other.  For  instance,  if, 
in  a door,  a square  panel  alternate  with  a circular  one, 

88 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


89 


and  the  opposite  sides  of  the  square  be  the  same  distance 
apart  as  those  of  the  circle,  i.  e.,  if  the  diameters  of  both 
figures  have  the  same  measurements,  then  men  consider 
this  arrangement  an  illustration  of  regularity,  though  the 
likeness  is  in  the  width  of  spaces  not  in  the  shapes  occu- 
pying them  ; or,  if  in  a human  face  there  be  the  same  dis- 
tance or  measurement  between  the  hair  of  the  forehead 
and  the  eyes,  and  between  the  eyes  and  the  nostrils,  and 
between  the  nostrils  and  the  chin,  men  say  that  the 
features,  so  far  as  this  fact  can  make  them  so,  are  regular, 
though  there  is  likeness  only  in  heights  not  in  shapes. 
But  the  term  is  applied  sometimes  to  shapes  alone. 
When  each  part  of  a curve  or  angle,  as  in  an  arch,  bears 
the  same  relations  to  the  whole,  that  each  corresponding 
part  of  another  curve  or  angle  bears  to  another  whole, 
which  nevertheless  occupies  less  space ; or  when  one  part 
of  a curve  or  an  angle  is  like  another  part  of  the  same  curve 
or  angle,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  with  the  curve  over  the 
eyebrows  ; or  is  related  in  the  same  way  to  some  third  fea- 
ture, as  the  eyebrows  are  to  the  nose, — in  these  cases, 
too,  because  the  mere  shapes  are  alike,  there  is  said  to 
be  regularity. 

As  manifested  in  the  arts  of  sight,  this  characteristic  is 
as  important  to  the  general  effects  of  proportion  as  it  is 
in  the  arts  of  sound  to  the  general  effects  of  rhythm.  For 
this  reason  the  art-forms  of  paintings  and  statues,  as  well 
as  of  buildings,  are  usually  constructed  on  a framework  of 
lines.  These  lines,  first  of  all,  divide  up  the  whole  space 
to  be  covered  into  equal  parts.  Afterwards,  upon  the 
lines  or  between  them,  are  arranged  the  prominent  shapes 
such  as  the  branches,  sides,  or  tops  of  the  same  or  of 
different  trees,  the  ridges  or  edges  of  the  same  or  of  dif. 
ferent  hills  or  clouds,  the  banks  or  channels  of  the  same 


90  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , .4/VZ>  ARCHITECTURE. 


or  of  different  streams,  and  the  limbs  or  other  members  of 
the  same  or  of  different  men  or  animals.  The  effects  of 
such  lines  are  clearly  traceable  in  Figs.  1 8,  page  45,  and 
33,  page  69  ; and  they  may  be  seen  actually  drawn  in  Figs. 
46,  page  96 ; 47,  page  97  ; 48,  page  9 7 ; and  49,  page  98. 
The  simplest  and  most  convenient  form  for  this  kind  of 
a framework  consists,  of  course,  of  parallel  lines  that  are 
horizontal  or  vertical ; but  men  often  use,  too,  curves  and 
angles.  Curved  outlines  are  most  regular  when  they  form 
a circle,  and,  whether  they  do  this  or  not,  they  are 
usually  described  about  lines  radiating  from  a centre. 
See  Figs.  46  page  96  ; and  48,  page  97.  Angular  outlines 
are  most  regular  when  they  form  a square,  but  they  often 
necessitate  diagonal  straight  lines  as  in  Fig.  49  page  98, 
and  as  would  be  the  case  in  a framework  prepared  for  the 
left  lower  picture  in  Fig.  45,  page  93. 

Before  going  on,  it  will  correspond  with  what  has  been 
done  throughout  this  volume,  to  point  out  that  this 
framework  thus  constructed  for  the  purposes  of  art  ac- 
cords with  the  physical  conditions  underlying  all  sight, 
and,  therefore,  with  the  suggestions  if  not  requirements 
of  nature. 

For  reasons  given  on  page  63,  these  suggestions  must  be 
manifested  in  nature  mainly,  though  not  exclusively, 
through  the  use  of  curves.  Let  us  first  consider  here, 
therefore,  a framework  suitable  for  these.  As  shown  in 
Chapters  X.  and  XI.  of  “ The  Genesis  of  Art-Form,”  radi- 
ation, or,  as  this  is  there  termed,  central-point , which,  ideally 
if  not  really,  is  essential  to  constructing  shapes  with  cir- 
cular outlines,  is  merely  a development — sometimes,  as  is 
the  case  with  many  effects  in  art,  an  excessive  develop- 
ment— of  the  fact  that  in  nature  an  object  in  the  extreme 
distance  is  always  related  to  a like  object  nearer  us  in 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES.  91 

such  a way  that,  if  parallel  lines  were  drawn  between  the 
two,  and  extended  far  enough  into  space,  such  lines  would 
meet  in  the  distance  and  form  a point.  For  instance,  to 
one  looking  down  a long  street,  or  the  tracks  of  a railway, 
the  lines  formed  by  the  sidewalks  and  foundations  and 
roofs  of  the  houses,  if  they  be  of  equal  height,  or  of  the 
two  or  more  tracks  of  the  railway,  all  converge  in  the  dis- 
tance, and,  though  not  actually  meeting,  suggest  that 
they  would  meet,  could  a man  see  far  enough.  The  point 
where,  if  extended,  they  would  meet,  is  what  the  painter 
calls  the  vanishing  point,  and  if  he  wishes  to  be  mathe- 
matically exact  in  determining  the  sizes  of  his  figures  as 
represented  at  a certain  distance,  he  will  do  so  by  drawing 
converging  lines  from  the  top,  bottom,  and  sides  of  a like 
figure  in  the  foreground,  and  making  these,  where  they 
cross  the  place  in  which  the  figure  is  to  be  represented, 
measure  the  height  and  breadth.  This  principle,  as  ap- 
plied to  art,  is  the  basis  of  the  laws  of  linear  perspective  ; 
and  is  amply  illustrated  in  the  left  upper  corner  of  Fig, 
168,  page  297.  When  carried  out  in  a painting  they  make 
all  the  objects  represented  appear  to  sustain  the  same  re- 
lations to  one  another  as  in  nature  ; and  they  also  make 
these  objects  sustain  subordinate  relations  to  one  object 
of  interest  which,  being  in  front  of  the  vanishing  point 
from  which  all  the  lines  ideally  radiate,  necessarily  sug- 
gests that  everything  is  pointing  toward  it.  Notice  an 
artistic  adaptation  of  this  effect  in  the  arms  pointing  to 
the  central  figures  in  Fig.  8,  page  31. 

But  besides  having  this  central-point  of  radiation,  and 
therefore  of  principal  importance,  all  views  in  nature  have 
outlines  which  form  a setting  for  this  centre,  outlines  often 
dim  and  vague  because  of  their  distance  from  the  vanish- 
ing-point ; yet  they  at  least  make  clear  the  place  where 


92  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , /t/VZ>  ARCHITECTURE. 


the  range  of  vision,  as  well  as  the  lines  of  radiation,  are 
brought  to  an  end.  It  is  interesting  to  notice,  too,  that 
the  extreme  limits  of  these  outlines,  as  in  those  of  the 
horizon  and  zenith,  not  only,  but  also  in  the  contour  of 
any  field  of  vision  that  can  be  comprehended  in  a single 
glance  of  the  eye,  are  necessarily  circular. 

Once  more,  in  addition  to  a vanishing  point  which  is  a 
centre  of  radiation,  and  outlines  that  give  this  a setting , 
every  view  of  nature  has  a horizon  line,  and  with  this 
usually  a large  number  of  lines  parallel  to  it,  described,  if  in 
a sea  view,  by  the  caps  of  the  waves  ; if  in  a land  view,  by 
the  bank-lines  of  rivers,  by  the  tops  of  forests,  by  the 
ridges  of  hills,  or  by  the  snow-lines  of  mountains.  All 
such  views  necessarily  include,  too,  parallel  upright 
directions  taken  by  the  trunks  of  trees  and  plants,  not  to 
speak  of  the  necessary  parallelism  wherever  stand  human 
beings,  or  their  buildings.  See  Figs.  i8,page  45  ; and  33, 
page  69. 

Similar  methods  are  exemplified  also  in  the  arrange- 
ments by  which  the  features  of  particular  forms  in  nature 
are  related.  Whether  we  study  the  veinings  cf  a leaf,  or 
the  branches  of  a tree,  the  adjustment  of  the  nerves,  veins, 
or  muscles  of  any  living  creature,  or  of  the  hands,  feet, 
and  limbs  of  a man,  we  find  in  all  a tendency  toward  radi- 
ation. Sometimes  the  limbs  on  each  side  of  a tree 
diverge  from  a point  in  its  trunk;  sometimes,  apparently, 
from  a point  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  tree  from  that 
on  which  they  are  situated.  As  illustrated  in  Fig.  48, 
page  160,  of  “ The  Genesis  of  Art-Form,”  there  are  any 
number  of  places  where  ideally  the  centres  of  radiation 
may  be  ; but  that  they  are  somewhere,  the  slightest  exam- 
ination will  usually  reveal.  To  such  an  extent  at  least  is 
this  true,  that  no  one  can  question  the  statement  that  the 


93 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 

limbs  of  almost  all  plants  and  animals,  each  in  a way 
peculiar  to  itself,  have  a tendency  to  radiate  from  the 
body  to  which  they  belong. 

So,  too,  there  is  a tendency  to  curvature  of  contour 
where  these  lines  end,  and,  in  connection  with  both  radi- 
ation and  curved  contours,  a tendency  to  parallelism.  In 
some  trees,  branches  that 
begin  by  radiating  become 
parallel  soon,  and  continue 
so  to  their  ends.  In  others, 
as  in  pines,  parallelism  seems 
to  take  the  place  of  radia- 
tion altogether;  and  al- 
though radiation  has  been 
said  to  be  exemplified  in 
the  arrangements  of  the 
nerves  and  muscles  in  the 
bodies  of  men  and  animals, 
nevertheless  the  arms,  legs, 
fingers,  toes,  claws,  as  well 
as  the  two  limiting  sides  of 
these  separate  members,  and 
of  the  body  as  a whole,  fur- 
nish examples  of  parallelism.  As  a rule,  too,  the  way  in 
which  all  the  features  on  either  side  of  a common  middle, 
whether  in  the  trunk  of  an  animate  or  inanimate  object, 
balance  one  another,  illustrates  symmetry l No  people, 
perhaps,  apply  the  methods  thus  described  more  artisti- 
cally than  the  Japanese,  though  often  represented  as 
ignoring  them.  Notice  proofs  of  this  in  all  four  composi- 
tions in  Fig.  45,  reduced  from  “ Fine  Art  Pictures,”  a 
Tokyo  publication,  by  Katsugaro  Yenouge. 


FIG.  45.— JAPANESE  COMPOSITIONS. 

See  pages  go,  93. 


1 All  these  art-methods  are  explained  in  “ The  Genesis  of  Art-Form.” 


94  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  A N D A RCII I TECT URE. 


The  facts  thus  stated  will  show  us  that,  whether 
applied  to  one  figure  or  to  a collection  of  figures,  the 
framework,  ideally  or  really  underlying  effects  of  reg- 
ularity, represents,  as  do  all  the  other  factors  of  art,  that 
which  is  required  by  the  conditions  not  only  of  mental 
conception  but  also  of  material  appearance.  Now  let  us 
consider  the  representative  characteristics  of  different  de- 
grees of  regularity.  The  best  way  of  starting  to  do  this, 
will  be  to  recall,  for  a moment,  the  conclusion  reached  on 
page  60  with  reference  to  the  outlines  supposed  to  have 
been  drawn  on  paper  at  hap-hazard.  To  the  assertion 
there  made,  that  the  less  thought  bestowed  on  them  the 
more  likely  they  are  to  describe  curves,  we  may  add  here 
that  the  more  likely  they  are  also  to  separate  spaces  or  to 
describe  shapes, — whether  by  curves  or  angularly  turned 
straight  lines, — which  bend  or  point  in  many  different  direc- 
tions, and  in  this  sense  are  irregular.  Of  course,  the  con- 
verse, too,  is  true.  The  more  thought  bestowed  on  them, 
the  more  likely  they  are  to  manifest  that  sort  of  resem- 
blance between  spaces  or  shapes  which  underlies  effects 
of  regularity.  This  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  the  in- 
stinctive tendency  leads  to  irregularity,  and  the  re- 
flective to  the  opposite.  It  follows,  too  (page  11)  that 
the  quality  of  the  emotive  tendency — as  impelled  without 
thought,  or  with  it — represents  itself  (with  special  force 
here,  see  pages  22,  60,  96),  whenever  the  other  tendencies, 
as  is  usually  the  case,  either  blend  or  act  alternately. 

If,  with  these  inferences  in  mind,  we  examine,  for  a 
moment,  the  actual  appearances  about  us,  we  shall  have 
no  difficulty  in  finding  analogous  conditions  indicated  in 
them.  The  impression  that  we  most  instinctively  form  of 
nature,  so  far  as  man  has  not  touched  it,  is  that  of  irreg- 
ularity. As  a rule,  this  and  nothing  else  is  what  moun- 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


95 


tains,  valleys,  rocks,  lakes,  whether  we  consider  their  out- 
lines or  arrangements,  seem  to  us  to  illustrate.  For  this 
reason,  in  a thoroughly  successful  painting  of  nature,  the 
contours  of  hills,  dales,  rivers,  foliage,  and  the  forms  of 
animals  and  men  are  never  arranged  along  the  lines  of 
a framework  with  a too  inflexible  regard  for  such  charac- 
teristics as  radiation,  parallelism,  or  balance  ; or,  if  they 
be,  these  methods  are  concealed  so  as  not  to  be  recogniz- 
able without  study.  Notice  Figs.  1 8,  page  45,  and  33, 
page  69.  Otherwise,  the  result  would  seem  not  even 
artistically  natural  but  unnatural  and  artificial,  regularity 
of  outline  being  almost  invariably  an  indication  of  the 
effects  upon  natural  appearances  of  the  reflective  charac- 
teristics of  man.  This  can  be  exemplified  equally  from 
landscape  gardening  and  landscape  painting.  An  artist, 
especially  one  of  an  early  historic  period,  is  almost  as 
likely  to  arrange  bushes  and  trees  in  symmetrical  groups, 
if  not  rows,  in  the  latter  art  as  in  the  former,  provided  he 
can  find  or  imagine  a view-point  from  which  this  can  be 
done  ; and,  when  depicting  living  beings  capable  of  being 
moved  about,  he  is  sure  to  arrange  them  thus.  Even  in 
most  imitative  paintings,  he  sometimes  changes  the  out- 
lines of  hills  and  valleys,  or,  if  he  cannot  do  this,  he  intro- 
duces regularity  through  the  use  of  color.  When  it  comes 
to  architecture,  where  he  is  left  free  to  design  the  whole 
appearance,  regularity  is  always  the  main  characteristic. 
But  how  is  it  about  a combination  of  irregularity  with 
regularity  ? Do  we  ever  find  this,  and,  if  so,  what  does  it 
indicate  ? For  an  answer,  let  us  look  at  nature  once  more. 
There  we  shall  notice  that,  though  inanimate  objects,  like 
mountains,  rocks,  and  lakes,  mainly  manifest  irregularity, 
other  objects,  and  always  in  the  degree  in  which  they 
approach  animate  existence,  or  are  themselves  higher 


9 6 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , A"Z>  ARCHITECTURE. 


developments  of  it,  manifest  regularity  also.  The  out- 
lines of  plants,  trees,  leaves,  flowers,  fruits,  tend  to  sym- 
metry. So  still  more  do  those  of  animals,  and  the  most 
symmetrical  of  all  forms  which,  at  the  same  time,  mani- 
fests great  irregularity,  is  that  of  man.  But  his  is  exactly 


F IQ.  46. — FIGUKE  Ci'/IDZD  BY  LINES. 
See  pages  go,  97,  98. 


the  form  that  is  fitted  to  make  the  strongest  appeal  to  our 
combined  instinctive  and  reflective,  in  other  words,  to  our 
emotive  nature. 

It  seems  necessary  in  this  place,  therefore,  to  say  some- 
thing about  the  representative  possibilities  of  the  human 
form  ; and  of  this,  first,  as  determined  by  the  blending  in 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


97 


FIG.  47— FRONT  FACE 
DIVIDED  BY  LINES. 


See  pages  90,97, 1 


it  of  regularity  and  irregularity.  This  latter,  as  we  know, 
when  it  exists  by  itself  alone,  with  nothing  to  counteract 
it,  is  confusing  and  therefore  disagree- 
able ; and  the  mind  associates  ugliness 
with  it  rather  than  beauty.  How  ugli- 
ness can  be  avoided,  by  introducing 
regularity  in  spite  of  irregularity,  is  a 
broad  and  complex  question  ; but 
enough  can  be  said  of  it  here  to  indi- 
cate the  principle  involved.  Recalling 
that  by  regularity  in  a figure,  is  meant 
its  capability  of  being  divided  by  paral- 
lel, horizontal,  or  vertical  lines  into  like 
5, 101.  space-measurements,  or,  else,  by  the  out- 
lines of  circles,  ovals,  squares,  rectangles, 
or  rhomboids,  into  like  shape-measurements,  let  us  examine 
Figs.  46,  47,  48,  and  49,  all  of  them  produced  by  drawing 
lines  through  or  about  figures  found  in  “ Putnam’s  Hand- 
book of  Drawing.” 

Notice,  first,  that  the 
framework  occupied 
by  the  form  in  Fig. 

46,  page  96,  and  by 
the  faces  in  Figs.  47 
and  48,  page  97,  and 
by  the  eye  and  ear  in 
Fig.  49,  page  98,  is 
divided  intolike parts 
by  parallel  lines  either 
horizontal,  vertical,  or 
diagonal.  It  is  the  fact 

of  their  occupying  like  parts  which,  for  reasons  to  be  given 
in  the  essay  on  “ Proportion  and  Harmony  in  Painting, 


FIG.  48.— SIDE  FACE  DIVIDED  BY  LINES. 
See  pages  90,  97,  98. 


gS  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Sculpture,  and  Architecture,”  is  the  main  element  causing 
features  to  be,  as  men  say,  in  proportion.  Notice  also  that, 
as  related  to  shape,  the  general  arrangement  of  the  features 
is  made  to  conform  to  the  directions  of  the  straight  lines, 
as  manifested,  first,  in  the  same  inclination  given  to  the 
ear  and  nose  in  Fig.  48,  page  9 7,  a requirement  which 
the  Greeks,  notwithstanding  their  keenness  of  observation, 
seem  often  to  have  disregarded  ; and,  second,  in  the  gen- 
eral outlines  of  the  hair  on  the  forehead,  and  of  the  eye- 
brows, eyes,  nostrils,  and  mouth,  as  in  Fig.  47,  page  97. 

Besides  this,  notice  the  radiating  lines 
in  Fig.  48,  page  97  ; also,  in  Fig.  47,  page 
97,  the  impression  of  regularity  and,  so 
far  as  this  can  impart  it,  of  beauty  con- 
nected with  the  combination  of  the  cir- 
cle and  the  oval  in  the  general  egg-like 
contour  of  the  head  and  countenance. 
Finally,  the  circles  drawn  about  the 
form — not  wholly  satisfactory — in  Fig. 
46, page  96, will  reveal  the  presence  of  an- 
other phase  of  regularity,  even  to  those 

FIG.  49.- EYE  AND  EAR.  1 J ’ 

See  pages  go  97.  who,  as  applied  in  this  particular  case, 

do  not  understand  exactly  what  it  is. 
Very  little  thought,  too,  will  cause  us  to  recognize  that 
these  lines  represent  lines  which  we  actually  draw  in 
imagination,  and  with  which,  thus  drawn,  we  actually  com- 
pare the  features  of  the  figure  and  face  whenever  we  form 
an  estimate  of  relative  beauty  or  ugliness.  When,  for  in- 
stance, a person  is  facing  us,  it  is  almost  impossible  not  to 
suppose  an  imaginary  vertical  straight  line  drawn  from  the 
middle  of  his  forehead  to  the  middle  of  his  chin,  as  in 
Fig.  47,  page  97  ; and  if  we  find  this  line  passing  through 
the  middle  of  his  nose,  we  obtain  an  impression  of  regu- 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


99 


larity,  which,  so  far  as  concerns  it  alone,  is  an  aid  to  the 
agreeableness  and  consequent  beauty  of  the  effect  ; but, 
in  the  degree  in  which  the  middle  of 
the  nose  is  out  of  this  vertical  line,  not 
only  irregularity  but  ugliness  is  sug- 
gested. 

Again,  a similar  tendency  causes  us 
to  suppose  other  imaginary  vertical 
straight  lines,  drawn,  as  in  the  same 
figure,  at  equal  distances  to  either  side 
of  this  central  line,  and  from  them  we 
may  gain  an  impression  of  relative  regu- 
larity by  noticing  to  what  extent  they 
pass  through  corresponding  sides  of  the 
face.  Besides  this,  we  are  prompted 
to  suppose  horizontal  lines  drawn,  as  indicated  in  the 
same  figure,  across  the  forehead,  eyes,  and  mouth,  and 
to  form  judgments  from  them  too  with  reference  to  the 
degrees  of  regularity.  It  is  important 
to  notice,  also,  that  we  form  these  judg- 
ments in  accordance  with  the  principle 
of  correspondence.  When,  as  in  these 
cases,  opposite  features  of  the  counte- 
nance appear  to  be  in  exact  balance, 
because  they  can  be  fitted  into  a frame- 
work that  is  exactly  straight  or  rectan- 
gular, the  external  arrangement  is  satis- 
factory because  it  seems  representative 
of  something  internal  that  is  satisfac- 
tory ; in  other  words,  because  we  asso- 
ciate these  physical  conditions  with  cor- 
related ones  that  are  mental  and  moral. 


FIG.  50. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

See  pages  100,  1 18 
170,  176,  178. 


FIG.  51. 

CONTEMPT  AND  ANGER. 

See  pages  100,  iiS, 
181,  182,  183,  184, 
185,  189. 


Because  the  face 


is  square,  we  judge  that  the  character  is  square. 


100  PAIMTUW,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

For  instance,  Mephistopheles  on  the  stage  is  always 
painted  with  the  arch  of  the  eyebrows  not  in  line  with  the 
horizontal,  but  beginning  high  up  on  the  temples  and 
running  downward  toward  the  bridge  of  the  nose,  see 
Fig.  50,  page  99.  This  is  the  way,  too,  for  reasons  given 
in  Chapter  X.,  in  which  even  a handsome  man  looks 
when  contracting  his  brows  under  the  influence  of  arro- 
gance, pride,  contempt,  hatred,  and  most  of  all,  of  malice, 
see  Fig.  51,  page  99.  With  a similar  general  effect  of  ir- 
regularity, a simpleton  on  the  stage  is  painted  with  nostrils 
and  lips  the  sides  of  which  exaggerate  the  expression  of  the 

smile  by  running  too  far 
up  at  the  sides,  as  in  Fig. 
52 ; and  a scold  with 
the  sides  of  the  same 
features  exaggerating 
the  expression  of  the 
sneer  and  frown  by  run- 
ning too  far  down.  No- 
tice Fig.  51,  page  99. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  countenances, 
in  order  to  meet  the  requirements  of  regularity,  need  to 
be  similar.  In  its  way,  a dog’s  face  may  be  as  regular  as 
a man’s;  and  there  is  no  reason  why  one  human  face 
should  not  be  as  regular  as  another,  though  both  differ 
almost  radically.  Of  course,  this  could  not  be  the  case, 
if  by  regularity  were  meant  conformity  to  a certain  Greek 
type,  which,  as  must  be  confessed,  is  the  generally 
accepted  supposition.  Regularity,  however,  need  not 
mean  this;  but  only  a condition  in  which  the  general 
outlines  sustain  analogous  relations  to  lines  or  spaces  of 
like  directions  or  measurements.  And  there  may  be  many 
different  forms  of  which  this  can  be  affirmed,  all  corre- 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


IOI 


sponding  in  principle  though  not  in  the  method  of  apply- 
ing it.  For  instance,  none  of  the  spaces  in  Figs.  53  to 
57,  pages  101  to  103,  are  divided  as  in  the  Greek  type, 
which  was  evidently  intended  to  be  represented  by  the 
one  who  originally  drew  Fig.  4 7,  page  97.  Nor  are  all 
the  faces  in  these  figures  divided  alike.  Yet  all  are 
divided  according  to  what,  in  the  essay  on  “ Proportion 
and  Harmony  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture,” 
will  be  shown  to  be  the  principles  of  proportion.  For  this 
reason,  when,  as  is  probable,  nine 
tenths  of  all  Americans  tell  us 
that  they  consider  these  faces, 
more  beautiful  than  any  con- 
forming to  the  Greek  type,  they 
may  be  justified.  According  to 
the  laws  of  form,  properly  in- 
terpreted, such  faces  fulfil  the 
principles  of  proportion.  But, 
besides  this,  according  to  the 
laws  of  significance,  as  derived 
from  our  association  with  faces 
of  the  ordinary  American  type, 
from  our  deductions  with  ref- 
erence to  the  characteristics 
manifested  by  them,  and  from  our  sympathy  with  the 
persons  possessing  such  characteristics,  it  is  perfectly  in 
accordance  with  aesthetic  principles  (see  Chapter  XIII.  of 
“Art  in  Theory  ”)  to  say  that,  while  as  beautiful  in  form 
as  are  the  Greek  faces,  their  beauty,  to  one  of  the  race 
and  country  to  which  they  belong,  is  enhanced  on  account 
of  its  significance. 

Nor,  even  when  forms  do  not  fulfil,  as  these  presum- 
ably do,  the  germinal  principles  of  proportion,  must  it  be 


102  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


supposed  that  they  are  necessarily  ugly.  As  shown  in 
Chapter  XVI.  of  “The  Genesis  of  Art-Form,”  there  is 

sometimes  a departure  from  the 
regularity  of  uniformity  by  regu- 
lar degrees  or  gradations,  which, 
of  themselves,  cause  regularity 
in  spite  of  difference.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  the  same  principle,  un- 
consciously applied,  may  miti- 
gate the  irregularity  of  effect  in 
a human  figure  or  countenance. 
A forehead,  for  instance,  might 
be  as  much  higher  than  the  nose 
is  long  as  this  is  than  the  length 
of  the  space  between  the  nostrils 
and  the  chin  ; and  such  an  ar- 
rangement might  produce  some 
impression  of  regularity,  though  with  it,  of  course,  there 
would  be  conveyed  a stronger  impression  of  the  relative 
prominence  of  the  characteristics 
indicated  by  the  high  forehead. 

This  statement  suggests  an  im- 
portant principle  of  art  which  needs 
to  be  noted  here.  It  is  that,  some- 
times, certain  requirements  of  form 
have  to  be  waived  for  the  sake  of 
significance.  We  all  are  acquainted 
with  this  fact  as  applied  to  paintings 
or  statues  containing  two  or  more 
figures.  We  often  see  one  of  these 
made  positively  irregular  and  ugly, 
in  order  to  offset,  and  thus  enhance, 
the  regularity  and  beauty  of  the  others.  This  is  done, 


FIG.  55.— FACIAL  DIVISIONS. 
See  page  101. 


FIG.  54.— FACIAL  DIVISIONS. 
See  page  ioi. 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


103 


instance,  in  Raphael’s  “St.  Margaret"  and  “St.  Michael," 
Fig.  58,  p.  104.  But  the  same  principle  is  applicable  not 
only  to  groups  of  faces  or  figures,  but, 
in  each  of  them,  to  groups  of  features. 
Irregularity  in  certain  of  these,  if 
not  greatly  pronounced,  though  it 
may  be  altogether  too  decided  to 
render  possible  any  method  of  sup- 
posing them  to  be  regular,  may  add 
at  times  not  only  to  the  interest, 
but  even  to  the  charm  of  the  form 
in  which  it  appears.  Like  the 
stronger  shading  of  a line  or  color 
that  enlarges  the  apparent  condition 
of  a factor  for  the  purpose  of  em- 
phasizing it,  or  of  taking  emphasis  from  some  other 
near  factor,  irregularly  may  thrust  upon  attention  that 
which  thus  interprets  the  meaning  of  the  whole,  and 
renders  it  in  the  highest  sense  repre- 
sentative. The  expression  of  mere  in- 
dividuality alone  necessitates  having  no 
two  forms  or  faces  in  the  world  exactly 
alike.  Yet  thousands  of  them  may  be 
equally  beautiful;  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands, though  not  equally  beautiful, 
may  be  equally  attractive  ; while,  to  the 
student  of  humanity,  none  can  fail  to 
be  interesting. 

If  this  be  so,  the  subject  that  we 
have  been  considering  cannot  be  satis- 
factorily ended  without  some  discussion 
of  the  general  representative  meanings  of  the  differences 
and  deviations  in  regularity  which  are  possible  to  the 


FIG.  56.— FACIAL  DIVISIONS. 
See  page  101. 


104  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

human  form,  including  also  the  meanings  of  the  positions, 
gestures,  and  facial  expressions  which  it  may  assume  for 


FIG.  58.— ST.  MICHAEL  OVERCOMING  SATAN.  RAPHAEL. 

See  pages  62,  103,  145,  168. 

special  representative  purposes.  Inasmuch,  too,  as  some 
features  of  this  form  are  delineated  in  the  vast  majority 
of  all  paintings  and  statues,  such  a discussion  here  is 


REGULARITY  IN  OUTLINES. 


105 


altogether  appropriate,  even  though  it  may  involve  re- 
calling, for  the  purpose  of  an  application  to  this  particular 
question,  much  that  was  said  in  Chapter  V.  with  refer- 
ence to  the  significance  of  outlines  aside  from  their  regu- 
larity. Moreover,  as  the  human  body  furnishes  that 
appearance  in  physical  nature  which  is  most  nearly  under 
control  of  the  mind,  and,  therefore,  most  clearly  represents 
the  mind,  it  is  that  which  can  best  interpret  for  us  the  way 
in  which  any  physical  appearance  can  do  the  same. 

These  reasons,  together  with  the  subtle  and  complicated 
effects  to  be  examined,  will  sufficiently  justify  the  ex- 
tended discussion  in  the  four  following  chapters. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  THE  NATURAL  SHAPES  OF 
THE  HUMAN  BODY:  GENERAL  PRINCIPLES. 


Importance  to  Art  of  the  Study  of  the  Meaning  of  the  Shapes  and  Postures 
of  the  Human  Figure- — Sources  of  Information  on  this  Subject — Rela- 
tion of  the  Subject  to  Physical  Facts — Meaning  of  Roundness  or  Broad- 
ness, Sharpness  orNarrowness,  and  Length — Indicative  Respectively  of 
the  Vital,  the  Mental,  and  the  Motive  Temperaments — Correlation 
between  these  and  the  Tendencies  of  Outline  already  Considered — The 
Forms  Necessitated  by  the  Physiological  Conditions  Underlying  the 
Three — The  Vital  and  Breadth  of  Form — The  Mental  or  Interpretive 
and  Sharpness  at  the  Extremities — Connection  between  the  Vital  and 
Mental  as  Indicated  by  Length — The  Motive  or  Active  and  Length  of 
Spine  and  Muscles — The  Same  Shapes  as  Interpreted  According  to  the 
Observations  of  Phrenology — Of  Physiognomy — The  Round  Face — The 
Sharp  Face — The  Long  Face — Of  Palmistry — Different  Temperaments 
are  Usually  Blended  in  All  Men — Mental  Tendencies  Corresponding  to 
All  the  Temperaments  Exist  in  Each — How  they  are  Manifested  by  the 
Torso  and  Lower  Limbs — By  the  Hands  and  Head — In  Connection 
with  Activity. 


S just  indicated  in  the  preceding  chapter,  the  outlines 
which  represent  thoughts  and  emotions  the  most  un- 
mistakably are  those  manifested  through  the  forms  and 
movements  of  human  beings.  These  outlines  are  made 
representative,  too,  in  many  different  ways,  in  each  of 
which  the  slightest  change  may  involve  a change  in  mean- 
ing sufficient  to  make  an  otherwise  successful  human  figure, 
as  depicted  in  painting  or  sculpture,  wholly  unsuccessful. 

106 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  IO ~] 

Hence  the  importance  of  a thorough  understanding  of 
the  subject. 

With  reference  to  it,  very  fortunately,  there  has  been, 
of  late,  no  lack  of  study,  not  only  by  men  approaching  it 
from  a general  view-point  like  Darwin  in  his  “ Expression 
of  the  Emotions  in  Men  and  Animals,”  but  by  those  who 
have  made  a more  narrow  specialty  of  physiology,  physi- 
ognomy, phrenology,  palmistry,  and  gesture.  It  cannot 
be  claimed,  of  course,  that  the  systems  treating  of  any  of 
these  subjects  have,  in  many  cases,  made  exact  sciences 
of  them  ; or  that  the  reasons  given  for  the  facts  observed 
are  invariably  tenable.  At  the  same  time,  the  conclusions 
reached  have  been  the  results  of  innumerable  investiga- 
tions, carefully  made  by  many  a shrewd  observer ; and 
men  whose  business  it  is  to  represent  the  human  form,  or 
to  criticise  representations  of  it,  cannot  afford  to  ignore 
this  fact.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  inexcusable  than 
the  outlines  of  the  faces,  heads,  hands,  trunks,  and  limbs, 
with  which  many  otherwise  accurate  artists  imagine  them- 
selves to  be  depicting  a person  of  a certain  temperament 
or  tendency  ; or  the  postures  and  gestures  through  which 
they  suppose  themselves  to  be  causing  him  to  give  ex- 
pression to  certain  typical  thoughts  or  feelings.  It  cannot 
be  without  profit,  therefore,  for  us  to  attempt,  with  the 
aid  of  what  can  be  learned  from  sources  such  as  have  been 
mentioned,  and  following  no  one  authority  slavishly,  to 
consider  the  human  form,  and  to  find  out  and  to  state  as 
concisely  as  practicable,  the  conditions  that  seem  to  be 
represented  by  the  different  aspects  and  attitudes  which,  in 
certain  cases,  it  may  assume. 

It  will  be  logical  for  us  to  begin  by  noticing  the  relation 
to  our  subject  of  facts  having  to  do  merely  with  phy- 
sique. Moses  True  Brown,  in  his  excellent  work  on  “ The 


IOS  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Synthetic  Philosophy  of  Expression,”  quotes  with  com- 
ments of  his  own,  the  physiologist,  Alexander,  as  saying 
that  on  the  breadth  of  the  cerebral  organs  depends  their 
permanence,  and  on  their  length  their  intensity.  Another 
whose  ability  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  the  human 
shape  was  in  his  day  surpassed  by  none,  Mr.  0.  S. 
Fowler,  the  phrenologist,  tells  us  in  his  “ Self-In- 
structor,” that  “ spherical  forms  are  naturally  self-pro- 
tecting. Roundness  protects  its  possessor.  So  all  round 
built  animals  are  strong-constitutioned  ” — in  other  words, 
“ breadth ,”  as  he  terms  it,  “ indicates  animality  ” — a state- 
ment which,  though  it  explains  nothing,  coincides  with 
what  we  have  already  noticed  on  page  61,  of  the  connec- 
tion in  nature  between  the  curve  and  the  evidences  of 
buoyancy  and  life.  “ Excitability,”  he  says  again,  is  indi- 
cated by  sharpness  ; and  when  he  goes  on  to  develop  what 
he  thus  affirms,  he  shows  that  by  “ excitability  ” he  means 
chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  mental  excitability.  “ People 
of  this  class,”  he  says,  are  “ brilliant  writers  and  speakers,” 
putting  the  adjective  in  italics.  Besides  this,  too,  he  also 
makes  sharpness  characteristic  of  what  he  terms  the 
“mental”  temperament.  “ Activity,”  he  continues,  “is 
indicated  by  length.  Developing  what  he  means  by 
activity,  he  affirms  that  those  of  this  class  are  “ intellec- 
tual and  moral,”  and  that  “ their  characters,  unless  per- 
verted, like  their  persons,  ascend.” 

Of  course,  while  giving  due  weight  to  the  results  of  a 
man’s  experience,  there  is  no  need  of  accepting,  in  the 
form  of  a general  rule,  an  assertion  like  this,  to  which 
there  are  so  many  exceptions  that  it  is  no  general  rule. 
The  intellectual,  the  moral,  and  the  aspiring  depend  upon 
the  quality  of  that  which  is  behind  the  outward  form.  At 
the  most,  the  form  can  only  show  the  capability  of  the 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHARE.  log 

man  in  giving  expression  to  these.  Indeed,  it  would  be 
unjust  to  Fowler  not  to  add  that  he  himself  provides  for 
exceptions  to  his  rules  by  saying  that  the  “ primary  forms 
and  characters,”  to  which  we  have 
just  referred,  “ usually  combine  in 
different  degrees,  producing,  of 
course,  corresponding  differences  in 
talents  and  characteristics.  Thus 
eloquence  accompanies  breadth  com- 
bined with  sharpness  ; some  poets  are 
broad  and  sharp  [Fig.  59],  others 
long  and  sharp  [Fig.  60],  but  all  are 
sharp.”  Following  this  prelimina- 
ry explanation,  Fowler  gives  us  the 
well-known  and  customary  classifi- 
cation of  temperaments  into  the  vital,  which  would  be 
manifested  by  what  he  means  by  roundness ; the  mental , 
manifested  by  sharpness  ; and  the  motive , by  length.  These 
terms  have  been  in  use  for  years,  but  their  meanings  are 

not  always  distinctly  under- 
stood ; nor  in  what  sense 
each  can  be  said  to  be  repre- 
sented by  a different  ten- 
dency of  form.  Let  us,  for 
a moment,  then,  consider 
these  questions,  as  well  as 
the  way  in  which  the  three 
temperaments  and  the 
shapes  manifesting  them 
can  be  correlated  to  the 
three  tendencies  of  shape 

riVj.  DU. LUINUrtLLUW’  . 

See  pages  109,  113,  115, 117,  119.  124.  consldered  111  Chapters  V. 

and  VI. 


FIQ.  59.— GOLDSMITH. 
See  pages  icg,  113,  115, 
117,  119,  124,  187. 


IIO  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


To  begin  with,  notice  that  when,  as  in  these  chapters, 
we  divide  shapes  into  those  composed,  first,  of  curves, 
second,  of  angles  with  straight  lines,  and  third,  of  all  three 
combined,  we  are  analyzing  the  methods  through  which 
an  outline  of  one  direction  passes  into  one  of  another 
direction  more  accurately  than  when,  in  a vague  way,  we 
divide  forms  as  wholes  according  to  some  general  effect 
of  roundness,  sharpness,  or  length.  Notice,  too,  that, 
while,  strictly  speaking,  the  same  feature  cannot  be  both 
round  and  sharp  or  round  and  long,  it  can  be  both  sharp 
and  long;  that,  in  fact,  it  is  usually  the  sharper  the  longer 
it  is, — which  of  itself,  suggests  a justification  for  the  con- 
nection between  the  two  which  was  brought  out  on  page 
56.  Notice,  finally,  that  the  only  unmistakably  separated 
conditions  are  roundness  and  sharpness,  said  by  Fowler 
to  represent,  respectively,  vitality  and  mentality.  These 
two,  therefore,  let  us  consider  first ; after  that  we  can  con- 
sider the  connection  between  both  and  length. 

The  condition  to  which  the  term  vital  is  given,  and  which 
we  are  told  is  indicated  by  roundness  or  breadth,  means 
simply  a frame  so  constituted  that  its  controlling  element 
seems  to  have  its  source  in  the  fact  that  there  is  plenty  of 
space  for  the  free  exercise  and  development  of  the  organs 
upon  which  vitality  or  a sound  physique  depends.  These 
organs  are  primarily  those  of  digestion  and  breathing, 
which  are  situated  in  the  torso.  But  full,  well-rounded 
arms,  necks,  or  heads,  for  the  reason  that  they  naturally 
accompany  such  a frame,  may  also,  in  a partial  degree, 
suggest  the  same  condition. 

The  condition  to  which  the  term  mental  is  given,  iden- 
tified by  Fowler  with  excitability,  and  which  is  said  to 
be  indicated  by  sharpness,  means  a frame  so  constituted 
that  its  controlling  element  seems  to  have  its  source  in  its 


REPRESENTA  TION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  1 I 1 


ability  to  represent  by  form  and  action  those  more  deli- 
cate and  subtle  shades  of  expression  which  render  the  dis- 
tinctive moods  and  movements  of  the  mind  intelligible. 
Excitability  is  said  by  some  to  be  characteristic  of  men- 
tality, for  the  very  good  reason,  probably,  that  the  brain 
is  the  highest  development  of  the  nervous  system,  and 
the  nervous  system  is  the  source  of  excitability.  But,  as 
is  sometimes  forgotten,  the  brain  may  also,  as  when 
absorbed  in  thought — and  this  too  when  the  nerves  are 
strongest, — express  the  fact  by  refraining  from  an  appear- 
ance of  excitement.  It  is  only  in  the  sense  of  possessing 
a possibility  for  distinctively  mental  nervous  excitation, 
that  it  is  proper  to  say  that  excitability  and  mentality  are 
one.  Even  clothed  in  this  language,  the  statement  is  not 
wholly  satisfactory.  The  nervous  system  and  mentality 
too  are  both  of  them  really  at  the  basis  of  all  kinds  of 
expression,  whether  of  vitality,  of  activity,  or  of  that 
which  we  are  now  considering.  Even  Fowler  while  he 
calls  this  latter  “ mental,  ” says,  in  a quotation  already 
given,  that  it  is  those  of  the  active  or  motive  temperament 
who  are  “ moral  and  intellectual.”  What  distinguishes 
the  temperament  with  which  we  are  now  dealing  from  the 
two  others,  is  the  fact  that  in  it  the  form  seems  to  be  mainly 
shaped  and  controlled  by  forces  having  to  do  with  the 
communication  of  thought,  which  it  appears  to  be  all  the 
while  interpreting.  For  this  reason,  it  might  possibly  be 
termed  the  interpretive  temperament.  The  organs  of 
interpretation,  that  distinguish  a man  who  has  highly 
developed  mentality  from  an  animal  that  does  not  have 
it,  are  at  the  extremities  of  the  body  ; and  it  is  a fact  that 
just  as  roundness  of  the  torso  best  represents  a well  de- 
veloped vital  and  physical  nature,  so  a shape  that,  in  a 
general  way,  may  be  termed  sharp,  best  represents  a psy- 


I 12  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


cliical  nature.  All  animals  have  an  abdomen  and  lungs ; 

o ’ 

and  many  seem  to  have  little  else.  But  in  the  degree  in 
which  they  have  intelligence  or  interpretive  power,  the 
organs  manifesting  this  push  out  from  the  extremities. 
It  is  of  this  that  we  think,  when  we  see  the  delicate  ten- 
drils of  the  insects  and  the  play  of  the  ears  and  tails  of 
dogs  and  horses.  Some  of  the  lower  forms  of  life  seem 
to  have  no  heads,  many  have  no  feet,  and,  if  a few  have 
hands,  none  have  either  heads  or  feet  or  hands  that  are 
able  to  do  what  those  of  men  can.  The  reason  for  this, 
too,  is  that  the  faces  and  hands  of  men — their  eyebrows, 
noses,  chins,  when  in  repose,  and  the  same  features  too,  as 
well  as  their  eyes,  and  mouths,  and  fingers,  when  in  action, 
are  much  more  sharply  defined,  or  capable  of  assuming 
forms  that  are,  than  are  the  corresponding  features  in  the 
animals.  Individual  men,  too,  differ  in  this  regard;  and, 
as  a rule,  the  round,  fat,  and,  for  this  reason,  inflexible 
shape  cannot  represent  thought  in  the  same  unmistakable 
way  as  the  one  that  is  sharp,  thin,  and  flexible.  Sharpness 
therefore  indicates  the  degree  of  interpretive  mentality. 

Observe  now  that,  when  a feature  is  sharp,  it  has  also 
a certain  degree  of  length.  Observe,  too,  that,  according 
to  what  was  said  on  page  66,  length  of  lines  is  represen- 
tative of  persistence,  seriousness,  and  dignity.  But  these 
are  traits  with  which  we  associate  both  thoughtfulness 
and  morality.  What  more  natural  then  than  that  length, 
as  said  by  Fowler  (see  page  108)  should  be  taken  to  repre- 
sent the  “ intellectual  and  moral.”  But  of  these  two  the 
intellectual — which  fact  will  recall  what  on  page  61  was 
said  of  the  effects  of  long  straight  lines — is  connected  with 
the  mental.  How  is  it  with  the  moral?  To  find  an 
answer  to  this,  notice,  first,  that  as  the  organs  of  the  vital 
or  physical  nature  are  at  the  centres  of  the  body,  and 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  I I 3 


those  of  the  mental  or  interpretive  are  at  its  extremities, 
the  degrees  of  the  length  of  the  organs  intervening  between 
the  two,  measure  the  degrees  of  the  distance  between 
them.  This  being  so,  does  it  not  follow,  according  to  the 
principles  of  correspondence,  that  of  two  men  having 
equal  interpretive  mentality,  the  one  whose  extremities, 
which  are  the  agents  of  this,  are  nearest  the  vital  centres 
will  suggest  mentality  as  being  more  immediately  under 
the  influence  of  vital  or  physical  instincts,  than  will  the 
one  whose  extremities,  on  account  of  the  length,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  accompanying  strength,  of  the  interven- 
ing organs,  are  remote  from  these  centres;  and  that, 
therefore,  the  latter  man,  other  things  being  equal,  will 
seem  to  have  the  most  power  to  resist  his  purely  physical 
tendencies,  or  to  have,  as  we  say,  the  most  moral  power? 
Does  not  this  suggested  inference  partly  explain  why  most 
of  us  associate  the  possession  of  more  moral  force  with  a 
long  and  sharp  face  and  form  like  Longfellow’s  in  Fig.  60 
page  109,  than  with  a combination  of  round  and  sharp,  as 
in  Goldsmith,  Fig.  59  page  109?  Now  consider  again  that 
when  we  speak  of  moral  force,  as  thus  produced,  we  refer 
to  an  effect  attendant  upon  a particular  method  of  blend- 
ing vitality  with  mentality,  or  that  which  is  represented 
by  degrees  of  roundness  with  that  which  is  represented  by 
degrees  of  sharpness.  But  whenever  these  are  blended  at 
all  we  have,  as  was  shown  on  pages  1 1,  59,  and  60,  an  emo- 
tive result.  The  moral  as  indicated  by  length,  therefore, 
is  merely  an  emotive  result  in  which  the  mental  appears 
stronger  than  the  physical.  Accordingly,  though  the 
terms  moral  and  motive  include  only  a part  of  what  is 
elsewhere  in  this  volume  termed  emotive,  they  include 
enough  to  justify  a correlation  of  them  to  it.  Indeed,  as 
applied  to  action,  as  is  mainly  the  case  when  considering 


114  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


their  effects  in  the  human  frame,  they  include  about  all  of 
it ; for  we  must  not  forget  that,  in  dealing  with  length,  we 
are  dealing  with  degrees  of  it — slight  as  well  as  great, — 
and,  therefore,  with  the  general  topic  of  the  degrees  in 
which  mentality  exercises  control  over  vitality. 

The  greatest  degree  of  this  control  is  supposed  to  be 
indicated  by  length,  because  a long  frame  seems  to  allow 
the  most  unlimited  scope  for  the  exercise  and  develop- 
ment-— of  course  under  the  influence  of  mind — of  the 
organs  which  are  the  sources  of  motion  or  action.  These 
organs  are  primarily  the  nerves,  the  lungs,  and  the  muscles. 
The  nerves  regulating  conscious  action  are  in  the  cerebro- 
spinal system  (page  127).  The  spine  is  a feature  differenti- 
ated from  other  features  of  the  body  by  its  length.  A long 
spine  is  usually  accompanied  by  long  ribs,  and  the  two  to- 
gether give  both  depth  and  expanse  of  chest  for  the  air  that 
sustains  activity.  Such  a spine  is  usually  accompanied,  too, 
by  long  limbs,  with  long  muscles.  The  peculiar  function 
of  the  latter  is  to  pull ; and  length  best  enables  them  to  pull 
effectively.  For  all  these  reasons,  length  seems  to  indi- 
cate activity,  a fact  so  often  noticed  that  it  needs  no  fur- 
ther illustration.  It  can  be  verified  by  recalling  not  only 
the  forms  of  the  most  active  men,  but  also  of  animals  like 
the  eel,  greyhound,  deer,  giraffe,  and  tiger.  But,  now,  a 
man  so  constituted  as  to  possess  great  possibilities  for 
activity,  will  be  apt  to  manifest  possibilities  for  self- 
control  and  persistence  in  whatever  his  inward  nature 
prompts  him  to  undertake.  Self-control  gives  dignity  of 
bearing;  and  tall  men  usually  possess  this.  In  connection 
with  persistence,  self-control  also  gives  control  of  others 
and  an  ability  to  survive  and  overcome  opposition.  Hence 
the  qualities  assigned  by  Fowler,  as  quoted  on  page  108, 
to  the  motive  temperament  characterized  by  length. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  I I 5 


These  suggestions  derived  from  physiology  are  con- 
firmed by  those  derived  from  phrenology  and  physiog- 
nomy. Fig.  61  contains  little  to  which  the  most  scientific 
physiological  psychologist  could  object.  By  comparing 

it  with  the  head  of  the  prize- 
fighter, Yankee  Sullivan,  in  Fig. 
62,  we  can  recognize  in  what 
sense  both  figures  confirm  the 
general  principle  that  the  round 
or  broad  face  or  head  — the 
head  disproportionately  broad 
at  the  ears  — indicates  strong 
vital  and  physical  tendencies. 
Comparing  Fig.  61  again  with 
Figs.  59,  page  109,  and  60,  page 
109,  we  can  recognize  in  what 
sense  the  sharp  face  with  the 
pointed  nose  and  lips,  especially 
when  combined,  as  it  usually  is,  with  prominent  and 
sharp,  in  the  sense  of  irregular,  organs  in  the  forehead, 
and  wrinkles  about  the  eyes,  indicates  the  essentially 
mental  and  interpretive  organization. 

Once  again  Fig.  61  will  suggest  why  the 
long  face  and  head,  made  long  mainly  by 
rising  above  the  ears  and  mouth,  indicate 
strong  motive  and  moral  powers  as  mani- 
fested by  exercising  mental  control  over 
physical  conditions.  A practical  illustra- 
tion of  the  fact  may  be  noticed  in  the  face  riu.  D^. 
of  Napoleon,  Fig.  63,  page  116,  and  also,  Yankee  sullivan. 
with  somewhat  shorter  and  sharper  effects,  See  pages  115,  119, 
indicating  a greater  tendency  to  interpre- 
tive mentality,  in  the  face  of  the  theological  leader, 
Albert  Barnes,  Fig.  64,  page  117. 


FIG.  61. 

PHRENOLOGICALLY  DIVIDED  HEAD. 
See  pages  115,  124,  167. 


Il6  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , A ND  ARCHITECTURE. 

The  references  already  made  to  the  eyes  and  nose  show 
that  the  testimony  of  physiognomy  must  be  added  to  that 
of  phrenology  in  order  to  bring  out  here  all  that  is  neces- 
sary. According  to  physiognomists,  the  round,  broad 
face  most  nearly  resembles  that  of  most  of  the  less  intelli- 
gent animals,  like  the  toad  and  reptile.  It  is  usually  ac- 
companied by  the  largest  jaws  and  mouth,  through  which 

food  enters  the  abdomen,  in 
order  to  sustain  the  vital  na- 
ture. It  must  not  be  over- 
looked, however,  that  even 
the  mouth  is  a part  of  the 
head,  for  which  reason,  while 
it  gives  a vital  emphasis,  the 
quality  to  which  it  gives  this 
emphasis  may  be  mental.  In- 
deed, it  is  through  the  mouth 
that  the  inaudible  processes 
of  thought  obtain  material- 
ization by  being  converted 
into  language.  Thus  under- 
standing what  is  meant  by 
vitality  of  emphasis  as  im- 
parted by  this  part  of  the 
face,  notice  how  the  follow- 
ing quotations,  though  not  written  for  any  such  purpose, 
confirm  the  general  principles  that  have  been  unfolded. 
Very  large  lips,  says  Mantegazza,  in  his  “ Physiognomy 
and  Expression,”  as  epitomized  in  “ Werner’s  Magazine” 
for  January  and  February,  1895,  are  “ almost  always  com- 
bined with  great  sensuality  ” ; and  again  : “ If  the  eye  is 
the  most  expressive  part  of  the  face,  the  mouth  is  the 
most  sympathetic.  The  desires  of  love  and  the  ardors  of 
voluptuousness  converge  about  it  as  their  natural  centre. 


FIG.  63.— NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE. 
See  pages  ns,  118,  uq,  120,  124, 
169,  177,  179. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  I I 7 


The  eve  is  the  mimetic  centre  of  thought ; the 

, O 

mouth  is  the  expressive  centre  of  feeling  and  sensuality. 

The  woman  whose  eyes  inspire  us  with  love, 
makes  us  enthusiastic,  exalts  us,  throws  us  into  an  intel- 
lectual ecstasy ; but  she  whose  mouth  fascinates  us,  clasps 
us  in  her  arms.  The  eye  is  the  azure  heaven  to  which  no 
one  may  attain  ; the  mouth  is  the  earth  with  its  perfumes, 
its  warmth,  and  the  deep  de- 
lights of  its  fruits.”  The  same 
writer  quotes  from  Herder  the 
statement  that  “ the  upper  lip 
reveals  our  inclinations,  appe- 
tites, affectionate  distress  ; pride 
and  anger  make  it  curl  ; craft 
and  cunning  make  it  thin  ; good- 
ness bends  it  ; dissoluteness 
weakens  and  debases  it  ; love 
and  the  passions  become  incar- 
nate in  it  with  an  ineffable 
charm.”  Lavater  in  his  “ Physi- 
ognomy,” divides  mouths  thus:  (1)  The  mouths  in  which 
the  upper  lip  projects  a little  (notice  that  this  upper  lip 
is  nearest  the  middle  of  the  face  where  mental  and  vital 
expressions  are  most  nearly  combined,  and  all  expression 
is  therefore  most  nearly  emotive)1  ; this  is  the  distinctive 
mark  of  goodness,  we  may  therefore  call  these  the  senti- 
mental mouths  (see  Figs.  59  and  60,  page  109).  (2)  The 

mouths  in  which  both  lips  project  equally  (notice  that 
this  effect  approaches  that  of  a perpendicular  straight 
line  (see  page  66,  also  Fig.  64);  they  are  to  be  found  in 
honest,  sincere  men,  and  may  be  called  the  loyal  mouths. 
(3)  The  mouths  in  which  the  lower  lip  projects  beyond 
the  upper  one.  This  is  nearest  the  part  of  the  face  ex- 


1 See  pages  11  and  121. 


I I 8 PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


pressive  of  the  physical  nature  (Figs.  50  and  51,  page  99). 
These  “ may  be  called  irritable  mouths.”  Mantegazza’s 
criticism  here  brings  out  more  clearly  the  correspondence 
between  this  last  condition  and  the  fact  that  the  lower 
lip  is  nearest  the  part  of  the  face  expressing  the  physical 
or  vital  characteristics.  He  says:  “The  extreme  pro- 
minence of  the  upper  lip  often  goes  in  company  with 
scrupulousness ; while,  on  the  contrary,  a marked  protu- 
berance of  the  lower  lip  denotes  great  firmness  of  charac- 
ter or  obstinacy.”  He  also  says,  with  reference  to  the 
chin  : “ It  seems  to  be  proved  that,  all  things  being  equal, 
a strong  projection  of  the  chin  [Figs.  63  and  64,  pages  1 16, 
11 7]  has  the  same  significance  as  in  the  lower  lip  noted 
(five  lines)  above.  It  is  the  ethnical  characteristic  of  the 
English  people,  who  are  a strong-willed  people.”  Then  he 
quotes  Lavater  again  as  follows  : “ Long  experience  proves 
to  me  that  a prominent  chin  always  indicates  something 
positive,  while  a retreating  chin  is  always  negative  in  its 
significance.”  He  also  quotes  from  Tomassee’s  “Moral 
Thoughts  ” to  the  effect  that  “ a small  chin  is  a sign  of  an 
affectionate  nature.”  This  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  it  is 
a sign  of  absence  of  wilfulness,  which  absence  is  essential 
for  a yielding,  sympathetic  character.  “ A long,  full  chin,” 
he  goes  on  to  say,  “ is  a sign  of  coldness  ; a long,  receding 
one,  of  perspicacity  and  firmness  ” (notice  in  both  these 
cases  the  characteristic,  peculiar  to  the  motive  tempera- 
ment, of  length) ; “ and  a dimple  in  the  chin  (akin  to 
the  vital  or  roundness),  of  more  grace  of  body  than  of 
soul.” 

Now  let  us  turn  to  the  sharp  face.  This  is  represented 
by  physiognomists  as  most  nearly  resembling  that  of  most 
of  the  more  intelligent  animals,  like  the  dog,  horse,  and 
bird.  It  is  usually  accompanied  by  the  keenest-looking 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  I ig 


eyes,  and  these  are  centres  of  nerve-force,  the  “ windows  of 
the  soul,”  far  better  adapted  for  drawing  inferences  into 
the  mind  than  food  or  air  into  the  body.  Some  of  the  quo- 
tations already  made  have  included  references  to  the  indi- 
cations given  by  the  forehead  and  eyes.  But  besides  what 
has  been  said,  notice  how  perfectly  Lavater’s  interpreta- 
tions of  the  meaning  of  the  eyebrows  conform  to  the 
representations  of  the  general  effects  of  the  curve,  the 
straight  line,  and  combinations  of  both  as  explained  on 
pages  58  to  77.  “ The  eyebrows  alone,”  he  says,  “ often  ex- 
press the  whole  character  of  a man.  Witness  the  por- 
traits of  Tasso,  Leon  Battista,  Alberti,  Boileau,  Turenne, 
La  Fevre,  Apelles,  Oxenstiern,  Clarke,  Newton,  etc.  . . . 
Eyebrows  gently  arched  accord  with  the  modesty  and 
simplicity  of  a young  girl  [see  Florence  Nightingale, 
Fig.  104,  page  172].  Placed  horizontally  and  in  a straight 
line  [see  page  66],  they  indicate  a vigorous  and  virile 
character  . . . [see  page  61  ; also  Fig.  63,  page  116]. 

When  one  half  is  horizontal  and  the  other  half  is  curved, 
a strong  intellect  will  be  found  united  with  ingenuousness 
and  goodness  [see  Figs.  59  and  60,  page  109].  I never 
saw  a profound  thinker,  or  a firm  and  judicious  man,  with 
thin  eyebrows  placed  very  high  and  dividing  the  forehead 
into  two  equal  parts.  . . . Thin  eyebrows  are  an  in- 
fallible sign  of  apathy  and  indolence.  . . . The  more 

closely  they  approach  the  eyes,  the  more  serious,  pro- 
found, and  solid  is  the  character,  which  loses  in  force, 
firmness,  and  intrepidity  in  proportion  as  the  eyebrows 
mount”  (see  Fig.  62,  page  115).  With  reference  to 
the  forehead,  again,  Lavater  says  in  his  “ Physiognomy  ” : 
“ Contours  arched  and  without  angles  indicate  sweetness 
and  flexibility  of  character  ” (see  Fig.  59,  page  109  ; 
also  page  61).  “ It  becomes  firm  and  inflexible  in  pro- 


120  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


portion  as  the  contours  of  the  forehead  become  straight  ” 
(see  Fig.  63,  page  116).  “ In  women,”  says  Mantegazza, 

“at  least  among  superior  races,  the  superciliary  arches 
are  slightly  marked  or  wholly  wanting  ; the  forehead  is 
narrow  with  very  marked  bumps  [ interpretive,  see  page 
112],  characteristics  also  to  be  found  in  the  skull  of  a 
child.  Another  very  usual  feature  of  the  feminine  skull 
is  that  it  rises  vertically,  then  bends  abruptly  toward  the 
crown,  making  a very  sharp  angle.  In  the  masculine 

head,  on  the  contrary,  there  is 
no  break  between  the  curve  of 
the  forehead  and  the  curve  from 
forehead  to  occiput.  The  child’s 
head  is  to  be  particularly  dis- 
tinguished by  the  great  de- 
velopment of  its  bumps.” 

Once  more,  let  us  look  at  the 
central  part  of  the  face  between 
the  eye  and  the  mouth,  where 
we  find  the  nose,  from  which, 
as  is  evident,  we  are  most  likely 
fingers  to  draw  inferences  with  reter- 

See  pages  121-123.  ence  to  length  of  countenance 

representative  of  the  motive 
nature.  Here,  as  will  be  noticed,  are  the  nostrils  fur- 
nishing the  lungs  with  air,  which,  as  pointed  out  on 
page  1 14,  have  so  much  to  do  with  the  motive  possibilities. 
But,  most  important  of  all,  here  is  the  region  of  what 
we  may  call  activity  of  countenance,  and  the  active  and 
the  motive,  as  the  terms  are  used,  are  synonymous. 
Notice,  too,  that,  in  strict  accordance  with  what  was  said 
on  page  1 1,  this  region  includes  both  that  which  is  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  lips,  mainly  expressive  of  the  results 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  12 1 


of  physical  temperament  or  will-power;  and  also  that 
which  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  eyes,  mainly  expres- 
sive of  the  results  of  intellectual  temperament  or  thought- 
power ; while  just  where  both  may  be  supposed  to  be 
equally  influential,  is  represented,  in  the  movement  of  the 
nostrils,  the  distinctively  emotional  bias,  as  in  manifesta- 
tions of  taste  or  distaste,  pleasure  or  displeasure  (see 
Figs.  124,  page  183,  and  127,  page  185). 

Palmistry  tells  a similar  tale. 

There  are  hands  which,  as 
wholes,  may  be  said  to  be  round, 
sharp,  or  long ; and  each  of  these 
may,  in  certain  of  their  parts, 
exhibit  characteristics  belong- 
ing to  the  others.  It  may  be 
said,  in  general,  that  the  round 
or  broad  hand,  the  hand  with  a 
fat  palm,  as  well  as  fat,  well- 
rounded  thumb  and  fingers, 
shows  physical  and  vital  tenden- 
cies in  excess  (see  Fig.  65,  page  FIQ-  66~  sharp  hand  with  edged 

. , , AND  KNOTTED  FINGERS. 

120).  1 he  sharp,  rather  than  c 

' bee  pages  121-123. 

round  hand,  the  hand  broad 

at  the  base,  but  assuming  a wedge  shape  when  the  fingers 
are  brought  together,  which  themselves  too  are  not 
rounded  but  have  edged  sides,  knotted  joints,  and  some- 
what flattened  ends,  belongs  to  the  nervous  man,  the  man  of 
brilliant  mentality,  quick  to  perceive,  interpret,  and  ren- 
der intelligible  the  general  features  of  that  which  is  pre- 
sented (see  Fig.  66).  The  long  hand,  including  often  too 
the  spatulated  effect,  as  in  Fig.  67,  where  the  whole  finger 
looks  like  an  extended  rectangle  shaped  as  if  to  make 
the  finger’s  sides  seem  as  long  as  possible,  belongs  to  the 


122  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

man  given  to  details,  the  man  persistent  in  dealing  with 
small  minutiae,  either  of  thoughts  or  of  things,  never  tired 
of  picking  them  out  and  polishing  and  putting  them  into 
their  proper  places,  the  man  who  in  this  sense  shows  great 
motive  power,  activity,  and  persistency. 

Of  course  few  actual  forms  to  which  the  deductions  of 
these  so-called  sciences  apply  belong  to  any  one  type  ex- 
clusively. As  intimated  on  page 
109,  round  and  sharp  character- 
istics, as  also  sharp  and  long  ones, 
are  more  frequently  than  not  found 
together.  The  question  of  the 
predominance,  therefore,  of  a vital, 
mental,  or  motive  temperament,  is 
determined  less  by  the  absolute 
presence  or  absence  of  that  which 
causes  it  than  by  the  relative  in- 
fluence which  this  exerts. 

Another  fact  closely  connected 
with  this  is  that  all  the  parts  of  the 
human  form,  to  the  predominating 
influence  of  which  each  tempera- 
ment is  ascribable,  exist  in  all 
men.  Therefore  in  all  men  there 
is  a vital,  mental,  or  motive  ten- 
dency, with  a possibility  of  giving  an  interpretive  bias 
in  each  direction.  In  other  words,  because  a man  has, 
in  general,  a vital  temperament,  this  does  not  interfere 
with  his  tempering  for  special  purposes  any  of  his 
actions  with  a special  mental,  or  motive  emphasis.  It 
will  be  recognized  too  that  just  as  temperament  is  in  its 
essence  physical  or  vital,  interpretive  emphasis  is  mental; 
and  that  the  form  of  this  emphasis,  so  far  as  it  can  be  im- 


FIQ.  67.— LONG  HAND  AND 
SPATULATED  FINGERS. 

See  pages  121-123. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HUMAN  SHAPE.  1 23 


parted  aside  from  the  actions  prompted  by  the  motive 
nature,  which  actions  will  be  considered  in  a following 
chapter,  is  a result  of  the  prominence,  natural  or  assumed, 
of  certain  parts  of  the  body. 

With  reference  to  the  representative  effects  of  these 
parts,  it  involves  little  more  than  a recapitulation  of  what 
has  been  said  already,  to  add  that  we  naturally  judge  of 
vitality,  pure  and  simple,  from  the  torso  ; of  mentality 
from  the  extremities,  especially  the  hands  and  head  ; and 
of  activity  from  the  legs  and  arms.  Taking  the  torso 
alone,  we  judge  of  its  mentality  from  the  interpretive 
movements  of  the  shoulders  ; and  of  its  relation  to 
activity,  plainly  emotive  in  this  case,  from  the  breast. 
Taking  the  legs  and  arms  by  themselves,  we  judge  of 
their  relation  to  vitality  from  the  hips  and  shoulders  ; of 
their  relation  to  mentality  from  the  interpretive  move- 
ments sometimes  made  by  the  feet  as  well  as  hands,  and 
of  their  mere  activity,  emotive  too,  as  is  proved  by  the 
awkwardness  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  anything  to 
embarrass  or  restrain,  from  the  knees  and  elbows.  We 
must  bear  in  mind,  however,  that,  because  the  legs  run  up 
to  the  abdomen,  there  is  always  a peculiarly  vital  (and 
physical)  suggestion  in  connection  with  even  their  most 
mental  and  emotional  phases  of  expression  ; and  that,  be- 
cause the  arms  run  up  to  the  shoulders  and  head,  there  is 
a peculiarly  emotive  and  mental  tendency  connected  with 
even  their  most  vital  and  physical  phases  of  expression. 

Taking  the  hands  by  themselves  (Figs.  65,  66,  and  67, 
pages  1 20  to  122),  we  judge  of  their  relations  to  vitality  from 
the  lower  palm  ; of  their  mere  mentality  from  the  fingers, 
as  will  be  shown  on  page  155,  when  we  come  to  speak  of 
the  finger  gesture,  and  of  their  relation  to  activity  from  the 
thumb  and  upper  palm,  which  latter,  in  order  to  indicate 


124  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


inclination  for  or  against  a person  or  conception,  is  always 
turned,  as  will  be  shown,  so  as  to  welcome  or  to  repel  him. 
Each  of  the  three  divisions,  too,  of  the  thumb  and  fingers 
seems  to  be  correspondingly  related,  the  length  of  that 
nearest  the  palm  indicating,  according  to  palmistry,  the 
relative  importance  given  by  the  mind  to  material  con- 
siderations, of  that  nearest  the  end  to  ideal  considerations, 
and  of  that  between  the  two  to  the  practical  results  of 
both  combined.  Taking  the  head  by  itself  (see  Fig.  61, 
page  1 15),  and  not  forgetting  that  all  its  manifestations  are 
primarily  mental,  we  judge  of  its  relation  to  vitality  by 
the  back,  especially  at  the  lower  parts  near  the  neck,  and 
as  far  up  as  above  the  ears  (Fig.  62,  page  1 15)  ; of  men- 
tality by  the  front,  especially  at  the  higher  parts  about 
the  eyes  and  forehead  (Figs.  59  and  60,  page  109) ; and  of 
activity  or  moral  possibilities  of  control  by  the  middle, 
especially  at  the  top  above  the  ears  and  at  the  crown, 
and  also  by  the  nose  (Figs.  63,  page  1 16,  and  64,  page  1 17). 
If  we  look  at  the  face,  we  judge  of  vital  or  physical  will- 
force  by  the  lower  jaw  (Fig.  62,  page  1 16) ; of  mentality 
by  the  forehead  and  eyes  (Figs.  59,  60,  63,  and  64);  and 
of  activity  by  the  middle  again,  the  region  between  the 
eyes  and  mouth,  including  both.  A large  nose,  for 
instance,  indicating  reflective  or  calculating,  sometimes 
selfish,  activity  (Fig.  63,  page  I 16)  ; and  a large  lip,  indicat- 
ing instinctive,  non-calculating,  often  unselfish,  activity 
(see  Fig.  60,  page  109). 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  all  that  has  been  said  in  this 
chapter  can  make  the  body  representative  to  a complete 
extent,  in  so  far  only  as  to  the  possibilities  of  physical 
temperament  as  manifested  in  the  form,  or  of  interpretive 
significance  as  manifested  in  arrangements  of  particular 
parts  of  the  same,  are  added  the  influences  of  motive  activ- 
ity. These  will  be  considered  in  the  chapters  following. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  THE  POSTURES  OF  THE 
HUMAN  BODY  : GENERAL  PRINCIPLES. 

Three  Divisions  of  the  Subject,  namely,  the  Sources,  Directions,  and  Forms 
of  the  Movements — The  Vital  or  Physical  Sources  of  Movements  Show 
that  the  Vital  Tendency  Leads  to  Instinctive,  Unconscious,  Unpremedi- 
tated Expression — The  Mental  Tendency  to  Reflective,  Conscious,  and 
Premeditated  Expression — The  Motive,  Emotive,  or  Moral  Tendency 
to  a Combination  of  the  Two  Forms  of  Expression — The  Mental  or 
Interpretive  Directions  of  the  Movements  Show  that  Vital  Expressions 
Move  away  from  the  Body — Mental  Expressions  Move  toward  it — 
Motive  Expressions  are  in  Combinations  of  the  Other  Two,  as  when 
Alternating  or  Oblique — Delsarte’s  Theories — The  Active  Effects  of  the 
Movements  are,  in  the  Case  of  Vital  Expression,  Free,  Graceful,  and 
Round — Of  Mental  Expression,  Constrained,  Awkward,  Straight — Of 
Motive  Expression  in  Action,  Covering  Much  Space,  hence  Long — If 
Very  Emotive,  Varied  and  Angular — If  Moral,  Tense  and  Rigid — How 
the  Actor’s  and  Orator’s  Movements  Combine  Curvature  and  Straight- 
ness, Grace  and  Strength. 


E have  found  in  the  human  form  three  general 


physical  temperaments;  and  we  have  found  also  that 
these  may  be  made  representative  of  psychical  tendencies. 
Moreover,  we  have  found  that,  as  the  organs  emphasized 
in  each  temperament  are  possessed  by  all  men,  so  the  ten- 
dencies represented  by  each  are  in  all  men,  and,  in  certain 
cases,  will  manifest  their  presence.  But  so  far  we  have 
not  considered  the  possibilities  of  their  doing  so,  except 
aside  from  any  reference  to  action.  Now  we  are  to  con- 


125 


126  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , A ND  ARCHITECTURE. 

sider  them  in  connection  with  this.  Our  subject  naturally 
divides  itself  into  three  heads  : the  first  suggested  by  the 
physical  sources  of  the  movements ; the  second,  by  their 
directions  as  influenced  by  the  mental  aims  of  expression  ; 
and  the  third,  by  their  forms,  as  manifesting  the  mode  of 
activity  resulting  from  the  combined  influences  of  their 
sources  and  their  aims. 

Let  us  consider,  first,  what  is  suggested  by  their  physi- 
cal sources.  The  organs  of  the  vital  nature  were  said  to 
be  primarily  those  which  control  the  accumulation  and 
distribution  of  nutriment.  The  operations  of  these  organs 
are  performed  as  well  in  the  body  of  an  animal  as  of  a 
man.  Moreover,  they  are  carried  on  entirely  by  the  sym- 
pathetic nervous  system,  over  which  the  mind  exercises  no 
conscious  control.  In  the  sense  of  being  both  physical 
and  unconscious,  they  are  also  instinctive.  But  besides 
these  movements  having  to  do  with  the  peculiar  functions 
of  the  torso,  other  apparently  unconscious  movements  are 
made  by  the  body,  and  among  them  are  many  which,  as 
a rule,  have  to  do  solely  with  the  expression  of  thought. 
Others,  too,  when  made  unconsciously,  are  found  to  be 
dependent  mainly  upon  the  temperament  that  one  has  in- 
herited or  the  health  that  he  happens  to  have  acquired — 
in  other  words,  upon  the  state  of  his  vitality.  To  such  an 
extent  is  this  so,  that  men  have  come  to  associate  all  in- 
stinctive, unreflective,  and  thoughtless,  in  the  sense  of 
being  unconscious  and  unpremeditated,  movement,  with 
that  which  represents  the  condition  or  tendency  of  the 
vital  nature. 

Exactly  the  opposite  is  true  with  reference  to  that 
which  represents  the  mental  or  interpretive  nature.  The 
organs  of  this  are  in  the  head  or  hand,  and  are  fully  de- 
veloped only  in  man.  Their  movements  are  carried  on  by 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSTURES. 


12J 


the  cerebro-spinal  nerves,  which  attain  their  highest  per- 
fection and  are  at  their  best  when  consciously  controlled 
by  his  mind.  It  exercises  this  control  according  to 
what  Herbert  Spencer,  in  his  “ First  Principles,”  terms 
reflex  action,  in  which,  as  manifested  in  the  lower  orders  of 
being,  he  tells  us  that  “ we  see  the  incipient  differentiation 
of  the  psychical  from  the  physical  life.”  All  this  implies  that 
the  distinctive  characteristic  of  psychical  or  mental  action 
consists  in  its  being  conscious  and  reflective  ; and  though 
the  head  and  hand  are  its  chief  instruments  of  expression, 
we  naturally  associate  with  it  all  contemplative  and  pre- 
meditated movements  wherever  made. 

The  motive  nature  has  been  said  to  be  determined  by 
the  degrees  of  activity,  and  its  chief  organs  have  been  said 
to  be  in  the  upper  chest  and  the  limbs.  Activity,  how- 
ever, is  not  peculiar  to  the  motive  temperament.  Without 
action  of  some  kind  neither  the  vital  nor  the  mental 
could  find  expression.  Moreover,  all  actions  of  the  body 
of  any  kind  are  carried  on  either  in  the  instinctive  way, 
having  its  source  in  the  sympathetic  nervous  system,  or 
in  the  reflective,  having  its  source  in  the  cerebro-spinal. 
We  must  infer,  therefore,  that  the  expressions  of  the  mo- 
tive nature  involve  a combination  of  the  two  kinds  already 
considered.  If  with  this  deduction  in  mind,  we  think,  for 
a moment,  of  the  movements  of  the  upper  chest,  the  chief 
seat  of  this  nature,  we  shall  recall  that  the  lungs  may  be 
inflated  either  vitally,  i.  e.  instinctively  and  unconsciously, 
or  mentally,  i.  e.,  reflectively  and  consciously.  And  the 
same  is  true,  though  in  a less  marked  degree,  of  movements 
in  any  part  of  the  body.  It  was  shown  on  page  1 1,  that  the 
condition  in  which  the  instinctive  and  reflective  tenden- 
cies unite  is  the  one  that  best  represents  the  emotive  ten- 
dency. As  a fact,  do  we  not  always  associate  the  heaving 


128  PAIN TING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


of  the  chest,  where,  as  has  just  been  shown,  they  most 
unmistakably  do  unite,  with  a distinctive  expression  of 
emotion  ? It  was  also  said  in  the  same  place  that  the  term 
emotive,  as  there  used,  was  not  meant  to  designate  merely 
the  physical  and  vital  feelings,  but  a combination  of  them 
with  mentality,  such  as  causes  the  result  to  be  representa- 
tive of  soul.  This  statement,  too,  conforms  with  every- 
thing that  can  be  said  of  this  motive  temperament.  Its 
chief  source  is  the  upper  chest,  to  which  are  attached  the 
arms.  Here  are  the  lungs  which  furnish  the  purest  suste- 
nance of  life  to  the  heart,  which  is  the  spring  of  all  activ- 
ity ; and  upon  the  right  exercise  of  activity  depends 

the  condition  of  the 
moral  nature.  This 
temperament  is  there- 
fore called  not  only 
the  motive  and  higher 
emotive,  but  also  the 
moral.  See  again 
page  1 12. 

Having  considered 
now  the  significance 
of  these  movements, 
as  determined  by  their  physical  sources,  let  us  con- 
sider that  of  their  directions  as  influenced  by  the 
mental  aims  of  expression.  All  that  can  be  said  here,  of 
course,  must  be  founded  upon  observation,  and  a very 
little  observation,  when  aided,  as  fortunately  it  can  be 
by  the  system  of  Delsarte,  especially  as  developed  by 
his  many  followers  in  our  own  country,  will  convince 
us  that  expression,  in  the  degree  on  which  it  is  purely 
vital,  leads  to  movements  outward  and  upward  from  the 
body,  life  always  having  a tendency  to  unfold  from  the 


FIG.  68.— DROWNING  MAN. 
See  page  129. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSTURES. 


129 


internal  to  the  external.  When  a man,  as  in  drowning, 
loses  vitality,  his  thumb  and  fingers  bend  toward  the  palm, 
and  his  hands,  arms,  legs,  and  head  toward  his  trunk 
(see  Fig.  68,  page  128).  But  where  his  body  is  full  of 
life,  there  is  an  instinctive  and  unconscious  overflow  of 
activity  for  which  all  the  agencies  of  expression  seem  to 
be  chiefly  engaged  in  furnishing  an  outlet  through  move- 
ments chiefly  upward  and  outward.  A child  jumping  and 
gesturing  along  the  street,  with  no  one 
near  to  embarrass  him  or  make  him 
think  of  his  actions,  will  sufficiently 
illustrate  this  statement  (see  again  Fig. 

26,  page  60). 

Purely  mental  expression,  on  the  con- 
trary, tends  to  movements  in  the  same 
directions  as  the  non-vital ; but  they 
differ  in  that  they  are  made  more  con- 
sciously and  emphatically.  When  one 
is  absorbed  in  reflection,  or  is  contem- 
plating an  object  with  a view  to  study- 
ing it,  he  draws  his  head  and  hands 
together,  his  form  may  bend  at  the  waist, 
and  very  likely  he  sits  down.  If  then 
it  be  an  exertion  of  will  that  he  is  contemplating,  his  hand, 
in  accordance  with  the  principle  unfolded  on  pages  1 18  and 
142,  will  move  toward  the  chin  as  in  Fig.  69;  if  of 
emotion,  it  will  move  toward  the  nose,  as  in  the  bending 
figure  to  the  left  in  “The  Woman  Taken  in  Adultery,” 
Fig.  80,  page  139  ; and  if  it  be  of  thought,  his  hand  will 
seek  his  forehead,  as  in  Fig.  70,  page  13 1.  Notice  also 
what  is  said  on  page  1 56. 

Again,  it  follows  from  what  has  been  said  already,  that 
the  motive  or  distinctively  emotive  form  of  expression  is 


FIQ.  69.  — REFLECTION. 
See  pages  129,  142, 
156,  162. 


I30  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , A N D ARCHITECTURE. 


a combination  of  the  other  two.  In  the  degree  in  which 
the  instinctive  or  unconscious  tendency  of  this  combina- 
tion is  in  excess,  there  are  usually  upward  (Fig.'  26,  page 
60),  and  then,  to  prepare  for  more  of  the  same  kind,  alter- 
nating downward  movements  or  inward  (Fig.  99,  page  163), 
and  alternating  outward  movements  (Fig.  78,  page  136);  or 
sideward,  and  alternating  movements  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, like  simple  twisting  or  swaying  of  limbs  or  body 
(Fig.  85,  page  146).  But  in  the  degree  in  which  the  reflec- 
tive or  conscious  tendency  is  in  excess,  there  is  a process 
of  opposing  counteraction  that  impedes  excess  of  move- 
ment, checks  mere  alternation,  and  causes  a blending  of 
the  two  methods  in  one.  The  latter  condition  leads  to 
oblique  movements  forward  or  backward  (Figs.  73  and 
74,  page  132).  These,  if  forcibly  made,  representing  in- 
stinctive lack  of  control  and  also,  at  the  same  time,  reflec- 
tive control  ; in  other  words,  both  excitement  and  purpose, 
with  a predominence  of  the  latter,  have  a peculiar  and 
powerful  emotive  effect  of  their  own,  which  effect,  uniting, 
as  it  does,  all  that  is  most  animal  with  all  that  is  most 
calculating,  is  distinctly  suggestive  of  threatening  hostility. 
The  oblique  movement  forward  is  the  most  indicative  of 
the  threat  (Fig.  73,  page  132);  and  that  backward,  the 
most  of  mere  hostility  (Fig.  74,  page  132) ; but  either  may 
jaresage  equally  unpleasant  results. 

For  this  way  of  analyzing  the  different  kinds  of  move- 
ment, as  well  as  of  associating  certain  tendencies  of  expres- 
sion with  certain  parts  of  the  body,  which  will  be  consid- 
ered in  the  next  paragraph,  the  world  seems  to  be  indebted 
primarily  to  Delsarte.  His  followers  term  the  three  kinds 
of  movement  just  considered  sometimes  the  vital,  the 
mental,  and  the  moral  ; sometimes  the  sensitive,  the  re- 
flective, and  the  affective  ; sometimes,  referring  to  their 


FIG.  70.— STERN’S  MARIA,  BY  WRIGHT  OF  DERBY. 
Seepages  129,  142,  156,  168. 


132  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


directions,  the  eccentric,  the  concentric,  and  the  normal  ; 
and  sometimes  they  use 
other  names  ; but  the  move-  ^ 
ments,  as  applied  to  human 
expression,  would  never 
have  been  systemized  ex- 
cept for  him.  In  this  volume 
they  are  not  always  inter- 
preted as  in  his  system  ; nor 
are  they  developed  into  his 
nine  other  movements.  It 
has  been  thought  more  safe 
for  theoretical  purposes,  as  F|Q.  72— side 
closinq^sture.  wel1  as  sufficient  for  prac-  CL0SINQ  gesture. 
Seepages  145,  152,  tical  purposes,  to  ascribe  See  pages  140,  156, 
156,  i6j.  them,  more  fully  than  he 
did,  and  confine  them,  to  the  antagonisms  which  exist 
between  the  tendencies  of  the  body  and  of  the  mind. 
Here,  too,  the  move- 
ments are  correlated, 
as  in  the  Delsarte 
system  they  are  not, 
to  methods  employed 
in  the  other  arts. 

Indeed,  while  giving 
all  due  credit  to  the 
great  French  teacher, 
it  is  not  necessary  to 
ascribe  to  him  every 
suggestion  connected 
with  this  subject.  Di- 

T,o  T,7  visions  into  threes  are  See  pages  62, 130  143, 
bee  pages 02,  130,  137,  148,158,167. 

145, 148, 167, 172, 175.  not  uncommon.  See 

the  note  on  page  17  of  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art.” 


FIG.  73.-OBLIQUE 
FORWARD  MOVEMENT. 


FIQ.  74.— OBLIQUE 
BACKWARD  MOVEMENT. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSTURES. 


133 


Much  of  what  is  to  follow,  including  the  explanation  of 
the  principles  underlying  the  gestures  of  the  arms  and 
hands  on  pages  149  to  164,  upon  which  is  based,  too,  the 
whole  system  of  facial  expression  in  Chapter  IX.,  was 
prepared  from  original  material  for  the  “ Orator’s  Manual  ” 
years  ago  ; nor  are  any  explanations  similar  in  kind  trace- 
able to  Delsarte,  though,  as  they  are  now  adopted  almost 
universally  by  those  who  teach  his  system,  they  have  come 
to  be  incorrectly  attributed  to  him. 

In  accordance  with  the  intention  indicated  on  page  126, 
we  have  still  to  notice  the  conditions  of  thought  repre- 
sented by  the  effects  of  the  tendencies  under  considera- 
tion, as  manifested  in  the  forms  of  activity  resulting  from 
the  combined  influences  of  their  sources  and  directions. 
To  treat  this  part  of  our  subject  properly  we  must  divide 
it,  and  observe  the  effects  of  activity  in  connection  with 
the  tendencies,  first  of  the  vital,  next  of  the  mental,  and 
last  of  the  motive  nature.  To  begin  with,  it  may  be  said 
that  any  one  who  has  watched  movements  that  are  dis- 
tinctively instinctive  and  unconscious,  like  those  of  chil- 
dred  at  play  when  no  one  is  present  to  overawe  or  criticise 
them,  will  recognize  what  is  meant  when  it  is  affirmed 
that  all  their  methods  of  expression  have  a tendency  to 
assume  the  free,  unconstrained,  graceful  forms  that  are 
naturally  expressed  in  curves  (Fig.  26,  page  60).  There 
is  a sense,  therefore,  in  which  the  vital  tendency,  when 
combined  with  activity,  leads  to  movements  as  well  as  to 
forms  that  are  characterized  by  roundness. 

A very  little  observation  of  the  same  kind  will  reveal, 
too,  the  truth  of  a counterbalancing  statement.  This  is, 
that,  in  the  degree  in  which  the  mind  is  in  a reflective  and 
conscious  state,  the  movements  have  a tendency  to  as- 
sume the  constrained,  awkward  forms  that  are  naturally 
expressed  in  lines  that  are  the  opposite  of  curves.  In  the 


134  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , /tAZO  ARCHITECTURE. 


gesture,  for  instance,  mentality  always  straightens  as  well 
as  stiffens  the  muscles  not  only  of  the  hands  and  fingers, 
which  are  its  chief  organs  of  expression,  but  also  of  the 
arms.  The  moment  that  we  see  these  members  put  into 
the  straight  upward,  downward,  or  outward  shape  of  a 
pointing  or  an  emphatic  oratorical  gesture,  whether  made 
with  finger  (Fig.  76,  page  134),  fist,  or  whole  hand  (Fig. 
75,  page  134),  or  with  both  hands  and  legs,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  man  in  Fig.  77,  page  135,  evidently  having  a hard 
task  in  trying  to 
convince  others 
of  the  truth  of 
his  assertions, 
then  we  know 
that  it  does  not 
give  expression 
to  a purely  in- 
stinctive con- 
dition, but  to 
that  which  is 
under  the  con- 
trol of  the  re- 
flective powers ; 
ho,  we  know  that 
the  forms  as- 
sumed are  results  of  an  endeavor  to  interpret  thoughts  of 
which  the  mind  is  definitely  conscious.  Mentality  has  been 
said  to  be  indicated  by  sharpness  and  straightness  of  form. 
Evidently,  it  can  be  said  to  be  indicated  by  movements, 
too,  of  the  same  kind,  for  it  is  definite  thought  more  than 
anything  else  that  is  indicated  by  these  gestures  and 
postures,  aiming  or  pointing,  as  they  do,  with  both 
angularity  and  straightness  of  finger,  hand,  arm,  or  leg. 


FIG.  75.— DOWNWARD 
CLOSING  GESTURE. 

See  pages  134,  136, 
156,  158. 


-SIDEWARD  FINGER 
GESTURE. 


See  pages  134,  136,  156, 
158,  159- 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSTURES. 


1 35 


According  to  what  has  been  said,  we  should  expect  the 
motive  tendency  to  add  an  element  of  still  greater  activity 
to  the  mode  of  expression  natural  to  either  the  vital  or 
the  mental.  This  activity  may  express  itself  through 
that  which  pertains  more  particularly  either  to  the  body 
or  to  the  mind,  or  to  that  combination  of  the  two  which 
was  said,  on  page  12,  to  correspond  to  what  is  under- 
stood by  soul.  Activity  must  manifest  itself,  evidently, 
in  the  degree  in  which  a form  of  movement  causes  cer- 
tain parts  of  the  body  to  appear  to  pass  through,  or  to 
cover,  a large  part  of  space. 

We  have  found  already  that 
length  is  an  indication  of  ac- 
tivity. Notice,  now,  that  this 
is  true  as  applied  not  only  to 
form,  but  to  movement,  in 
fact  that  it  is  true  of  form 
because  of  its  being  true  of 
movement.  The  long  body 
with  its  long  legs  and  arms, 
and,  where  the  latter  are 
short,  a long  reach  of  the  arms  FIQ-  77- -angular  argumentative 

0 MOVEMENTS. 

upward,  downward,  or  out-  c T„, 

r ’ ’ bee  pages  02,  134. 

ward, — these  are  necessary 

for  an  appearance  of  a great  amount  of  bodily  activity,  i.  e., 
of  movement  over  a great  amount  of  space.  This  state- 
ment conforms,  too,  as  will  be  observed,  to  that  already 
made  with  reference  to  the  expression  of  activity  through 
the  agency,  particularly,  of  the  arms.  Notice  Fig.  78, 
page  136,  also  Fig.  2,  page  21. 

But  from  what  has  been  said  of  the  motive  tendency, 
we  should  expect  it  not  only  to  add  greater  activity  to 
the  modes  of  expression  natural  to  the  vital  and  to  the 


136  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

mental,  but  also,  in  some  way,  to  combine  them.  With  this 
thought  in  mind,  notice  the  construction  of  the  human 
body,  especially  of  the  limbs,  and  of  these,  particularly, 
the  legs,  arms,  and  hands,  which,  as  has  been  pointed  out, 
are,  in  a peculiar  sense,  the  organs  of  motive  expres- 
sion. Observe  how  perfectly  these  are  fitted  to  combine 
all  the  possibilities  of  the  curve,  representing  the  vital ; 
and  of  the  straight  and  angular,  representing  the  mental. 
They  can  represent  these  because  they  have  not  only 
length  but  joints.  Expression  by 
means  of  joints  always  necessitates 
angles.  But  these,  when  slight,  do 
not  appear  to  be  angles  so  much  as 
curves.  Joints,  therefore,  furnish 
that  which  enables  the  body,  in  con- 
nection with  straight  lines,  to  mani- 
fest both  curves  and  angles,  and  thus 
to  combine  both  instinctive  and  re- 
flective expression.  But  when  these 
are  combined,  we  might  infer,  for 
reasons  given  on  page  1 1,  that  we 
should  have  emotive  expression.  A 

FIG.  78.  i r 

dancing  movements.  glance  at  men’s  actual  movements 
See  pages  130,  135,  142.  will  confirm  by  facts  the  accuracy 
of  this  inference.  With  a little 
emotion,  instinctive  rather  than  reflective  in  its  source, 
the  angles  of  the  arms  and  hands,  as  indeed  of  the  whole 
body,  are  so  slight  that  all  seem  to  be  curves  (see  Fig.  20, 
page  48,  also  Fig.  34,  page  71).  With  a little  emotion, 
mainly  of  a reflective  kind,  the  arms  hang  straight  at 
the  sides,  or  are  so  disposed  as  to  have  an  effect  of 
straightness  in  connection  with  curves  (see  Fig.  79,  also 
Figs.  75  and  76,  page  134).  With  much  emotion,  whether 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSTURES. 


I 37 


its  source  be  instinctive  or  reflective,  every  movement 
becomes  more  or  less  angular  as  well  as  curved  (see  Figs. 
73,  page  132,  and  39,  page  79).  It  need  scarcely  be  pointed 
out  now  that  to  associate  the  expression  of  the  instinc- 
tive, the  reflective,  and  the 
emotive,  respectively,  with 
the  curve,  the  straight  line 
in  connection  with  the 
angular,  and  the  combi- 
nation of  all,  is  to  reach  a 
result  in  exact  conformity 
with  the  principles  stated 
on  page  61. 

We  shall  not  have  done 
with  this  part  of  our  sub- 
ject, however,  till  it  has 
been  shown  what  phase  of 
activity  in  the  movements 
involves  a representation 
of  that  emotive  condition, 
which,  on  page  113,  was 
said  to  be  moral  in  charac- 
ter. Of  course  it  must  be 
a phase  in  which  physical 
tendencies  seem  to  be  sub- 
ordinated to  mental.  We 
have  found  that  the  former 
show  themselves  in  curves, 
and  the  latter  in  straight  FIG-  79-“A  NEW  guinea  chief. 
and  angular  lines.  Now  See  pages  136, 138. 

what  must  happen  when  both  tendencies  act,  yet  the  latter 
control? — when  the  curves  remain,  yet  seem  used  by  that 
which  can  make  them  straight  ? — what  but  this?  All  the 


138  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

muscles  of  the  limbs,  whatever  forms  they  may  assume, 
become  rigid.  Slight  mental  control  is  sometimes  mani- 
fested by  as  great  a variety  of  angles  as  great  mental 
control  ; but  in  the  former,  the  muscles  are  limp  (Fig.  88, 
page  147),  in  the  latter  they  are  always  tense  (Fig.  84, 
page  145). 

It  is  seldom,  therefore,  that  the  actor  or  orator,  except 
when  intentionally  depicting  weakness,  fails  to  keep  com- 
mand of  the  muscles  in  every  part  of  his  frame.  At  the 
same  time,  he  tries  to  accommodate  his  actions  to  the  re- 
quirements of  curvature  as  well  as  of  straightness,  know- 
ing that  while  strength  of  thought,  as  indicated  by  the 
latter,  is  a virtue,  unyielding  strength  of  this  kind,  with 
no  suggestion  of  geniality  of  nature  or  of  sympathy  with 
what  is  outside  of  oneself,  is  as  ungracious  as  it  is  ungrace- 
ful. The  ordinary  position  in  oratory,  consciously  as- 
sumed and  by  tense  muscles  too,  is  that  of  the  compound 
curve.  This,  as  distinguished  from  the  simple  curve,  is 
one,  the  different  parts  of  which  point  in  different  direc- 
tions. As  manifested  by  the  pose  of  the  whole  body,  for 
instance,  the  limbs  as  far  up  as  the  hips  would  point  in 
one  direction,  the  trunk,  as  far  as  the  shoulders,  in  an- 
other direction,  and  the  shoulders  and  head  again  in  the 
direction  of  the  lower  limbs  (see  Figs.  79,  page  137  ; 28, 
page  62  ; and  38,  page  77).  As  manifested  by  the  posi- 
tions assumed  by  the  arms  and  hands,  the  part  of  the  arm 
above  the  elbow  would,  when  making  the  opening  gesture 
(see  page  156),  be  bent  in  one  direction,  the  part  below 
the  elbow  in  another  direction,  while  the  hand  from  the 
wrist  downward  would  be  bent  in  the  same  direction  as 
the  arm  above  the  elbow.  Notice  this  curve,  in  both 
gestures  of  the  man  in  Fig.  27,  page  61,  in  the  gesture  in 
Fig.  97,  page  159,  and,  as  very  well  made,  in  the  high 


FIQ.  £0.— THE  WwMAN  TAKEN  IN  ADULTERY.  N.  POUSSIN. 


140  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


gesture  in  Fig.  82,  page  143.  On  the  contrary,  in  mak- 
ing the  closing  gesture  (see  page  156),  the  elbow  is  not 
bent,  the  effect  of  the  compound  curve  in  this  case 
being  produced  best  when  the  arm  is  straight,  as  in 
Fig-  7 5-  page  ]34-  ^ the  elbow  be  bent,  the  effect  is  that 
of  a single  curve,  as  in  the  weak  gesture  represented  in 
Fig.  72,  page  132.  The  compound  curve,  as  used  both 
in  the  pose  of  the  body  and  in  the  arm  gesture,  seems  to 
be  the  one  which  best  satisfies  the  requirements  of  beauty, 
and,  not  only  so,  but  also,  apparently  for  the  same  reason 
the  one  which,  by  preserving  the  balance  of  the  mem- 
bers, satisfies  best  also  the  requirements  of  strength.  In 
the  arm,  this  curve  appears  especially  important,  inasmuch 
as  the  slight  bend  at  the  elbow  prevents  the  gesturer  from 
seeming  to  strike  beyond  his  reach,  and  thus  augments  the 
appearance  of  force,  as  well  as  of  grace,  imparted  by  the 
visible  blow.  As  influenced  by  the  motive  inspiring  it, 
i.  e.,  by  the  condition  of  the  emotive  nature,  this  slight 
bend  in  the  ideal  pose  and  gesture  becomes  straighter  and 
stiffer  in  the  degree  in  which  the  only  consideration  is 
truth  which  the  gesturer,  in  an  upright  and  downright 
way,  is  trying  to  lay  before  us.  Notice  both  hands  of  the 
Christ  in  Fig.  80,  page  139.  But  this  consideration  is 
itself  often  very  closely  connected  with  sufficient  interest 
to  stir  the  emotions  ; and  in  the  degree  in  which  these 
become  profoundly  moved,  they  are  no  longer  satisfied 
to  persuade  us  with  gentle  curves  or  to  pound  thought 
into  us  with  straight  aimed  lines  (notice  the  figures  at  the 
left  of  the  Christ  in  Fig.  80,  page  139);  but  they  excite 
our  memories  and  imaginations  by  adding  all  sorts  of 
graphic  and  dramatic  effects  through  the  use  of  angles. 
Notice  the  figures  at  the  right  and  left  in  Fig.  80  ; also  in 

Fig.  39-  Page  79- 


CHAPTER  IX. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  PARTICULAR  GESTURES  OF 
THE  TORSO  AND  LIMBS. 

Complex  Nature  of  the  Subjects  to  be  Treated  and  the  Order  in  which  they 
will  be  Considered — Different  Parts  of  the  Body  as  Imparting  a Pecul- 
iar Phase  to  Emphasis — Vital  versus  Mental  Movements  of  the  Body  in 
Genera]  Illustrating  this  : Those  Mainly  Physical  of  the  Lower  Torso 

— Of  the  Lower  Limbs — Mainly  Mental  of  the  Hands  and  Head  with 
Upper  Torso — Mainly  Emotive  of  the  Upper  Torso  with  Shoulders  and 
Arms — Mental  or  Interpretive  Movements  of  the  Hands — The  Place  in 
the  Physical  Sphere  in  which  the  Eland  is  Held  : Horizontal  Extension 
— Vertical,  Downward,  and  Upward  Extension — Meaning  of  Gestures 
as  Determined  by  their  Physical  Relations,  as  About,  Below,  or  Above 
the  Breast — Indicative  not  of  Actual  so  much  as  Conceived  Relations — 
Interpretive  Shapes  Assumed  by  the  Hand — Physical  Suggestions  of  the 
Fist — Mental  of  the  Fingers — Emotive  of  the  Palm — Closing  Gesture 
with  Averted  Palm — Opening  Gesture  with  the  Opposite — Motive  Ex- 
pression in  the  Methods  of  Managing  the  Arms — Movement  from  and 
toward  the  Body  and  in  Both  Ways. 

T HUS  far  we  have  been  observing  the  general  princi- 
ples of  representation  through  the  human  form. 
Now  we  have  to  notice  the  methods  of  applying  them  in 
particular  representative  emergencies.  Of  course,  this 
task  involves  a somewhat  complex  view  of  each  phase  of 
the  subject,  inasmuch  as  elements  of  expression  hitherto 
considered  as  operating  apart,  must  now  be  considered  as 
operating  together.  But  by  following  the  same  general 
order  of  treatment  as  has  been  pursued  up  to  this  point, 
it  is  hoped  that  the  whole  subject  maybe  made  to  appear 


142  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


clear.  This  order  will  lead  us  to  begin  by  noticing  the 
more  physical  movements  as  distinguished  from  those  that 
are  more  mental.  As  the  latter,  according  to  what  was  said 
in  page  112,  are  the  distinctively  interpretive  gestures  of 
the  hands  and  head,  our  object  will  be  sufficiently  attained 
by  considering,  first,  as  distinguished  from  these  two,  the 
other  parts  of  the  body.  It  is  in  them  evidently  that  we 
find  the  most  physical  movements,  and,  in  connection  with 
them,  as  follows  from  what  has  been  said  already,  the 
movements  that  are  most  likely  to  con- 
vey impressions  of  the  instinctive,  the 
unconscious,  the  graceful,  and,  in  fact, 
of  everything  naturally  accompanying 
vitality. 

Carrying  to  its  logical  conclusions  a 
phase  of  thought  already  many  times 
suggested,  let  us  begin  by  noticing  the 
natural  inference  brought  out  by  Del- 
sarte,  that  prominence  given  to  any 
part  of  the  body  by  gestures  made 
with  them  or  to  them  by  the  use  of 
the  hands,  feet,  or  head,  as  indicated  on 
pages  1 26  to  128,  gives  to  an  expression 
the  phase  of  emphasis  represented  by 
that  part  of  the  body.  Thus  move- 
ments of  or  to  the  abdomen  (Fig.  81,  page  142)  or  hips, 
as  in  certain  dances  (Fig.  78,  page  136),  give  a physical 
phase  of  emphasis  ; movements  of  or  to  the  hands  or 
the  head  give  a mental  or  reflective  phase  of  emphasis, 
interpreting  it  and  rendering  it  intelligible  (see  page  1 12, 
also  Figs.  69,  page  129,  and  70,  page  131).  Movements 
of  or  to  the  breast  again  give  a motive,  or  sometimes,  as 
has  been  said,  a higher  emotive  or  moral  phase  of  em- 
phasis (see  Fig.  38,  page  77,  also  Fig.  82,  page  143). 


FIG.  81.— DISCOMFORT 
IN  THE  ABDOMEN. 

See  pages  142,  162. 


FIG.  82.— THE  RESURRECTION.  T.  N.  MACLEAN. 

See  pages  140,  142,  147,  151,  152,  160,  161,  162,  167,  174,  286 
143 


144  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


To  refer  in  this  place  to  any  large  number  of  the  many 
possible  movements  of  the  body  illustrating  these  state- 
ments would  unwarrant- 
ably extend  this  part  of 
our  subject.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  there  is  hardly 
a conceivable  pose  which 
the  principles  involved  in 
them,  in  connection  with 
what  has  been  said  hither- 
to, cannot  explain,  if  only 
one  be  willing  to  expend 
a little  thought  in  trying 
to  interpret  it. 

Recalling  what  has  been 
said  of  the  instinctive 
nature  of  movements  out- 
ward and  upward,  the 
reflective  nature  of  the 
contrary  movements,  and 
the  emotive  nature  of  side 
or  oblique  movements  in 
either  direction,  we  shall 
recognize  that  if  the  torso, 
the  seat  of  vitality,  lean 
slightly  forward  or  to  one 
side,  with  the  aid  of  hips, 
knees,  and  ankles,  all  these 
in  an  instinctive  way  con- 
tribute merely  to  the 
gracefulness  and  geniality 
which  we  associate  with 
healthful  and,  often,  for  this  reason,  good-natured  vitality 
(Fig.  83,  page  144).  The  same  part  of  the  body  sway- 


FIG.  83.— THE  FAUN  OF  PRAXITELES. 

See  pages  61,  144,  147,  282. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES.  1 45 


ing  from  side  to  side,  accentuates  by  action  the  same 
impression.  Twisting,  it  indicates  a little  more  conflict 
between  feeling  and  thought,  but  with  much  indecis- 
ion and  impotence  with  reference  to  surroundings  (Fig. 
85,  page  146).  Drawn  backward,  it  indicates  something 
that  checks  by  thought  the  instinctive  promptings  (Fig. 
89,  page  148).  If  drawn  back  obliquely,  it  indicates  a plot 
to  get  the  better  of  one  who  is  thus  opposed  (Fig.  73, 
page  132).  Thrust  forward,  in  the  same  oblique  way,  it 
shows  that  conflict  with  him  has  begun  (Fig.  74,  page 
132) ; and  when,  in  either  position,  hips,  knees,  and  ankles 
cause  all  the  limbs  to  be  out  of  line  with  the  vertical,  they 
show  the  sharpness  of  nervous  excitation  (Fig.  39,  page 
79),  and, where  this  assumes  an  active  form, 
excitation  intelligently  embodying  itself  in 
physical  force  (Fig.  31,  page  65).  Held 
erect  again,  the  torso  and  lower  limbs,  in- 
creasing, as  all  do  when  used  together,  the 
impression  of  length,  manifest  vitality  used 
for  moral  effect  (Figs.  58,  page  104,  71, 
page  132,  84,  page  145). 

Glancing  now  at  the  lower  limbs,  the 
man  who  stands  on  one  leg  and  rests  with 
the  other — and  especially  if  he  let  this 
dangle  or  hang  loosely, — has  divided  into 
two  parts  the  expression  of  vitality,  pure 
and  simple.  One  half  of  it  is  pointing  FIG-  84.— length 

r r FOR  MORAL  EFFECT. 

to  the  source  of  activity  or  the  emotive,  See  pages  62,  138, 
in  case  his  free  knee  be  thrust  into  prom-  I45,  I52- 
inence,  and  to  the  source  of  intelligence  in  case  his  free 
foot.  (Fig.  85,  page  146).  The  man  who  sits,  crossing 
his  legs  near  the  knee,  letting  one  foot  hang  loosely  has 
subordinated  his  vital  nature  to  the  emotive  (Fig.  86,  page 

IO 


146  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


146).  But  if  he  bring  the  foot  up  in  a line  horizontal  with 
the  knee  on  which  it  rests,  and  begin  with  his  hands  to 
rub  and  pat  his  lower  limbs,  even  his  mentality  has  been 
pressed  into  service  to  aid  the  emotively  vital  nature  of 
his  expression  (Fig.  87,  page  146).  The  straddle  and  the 
stride  are  caricatures  of  the  parallelism  of  the  straight 
line,  which  straight  line,  as  has  been  indicated,  is  usually 
representative  of  reflective  self-control.  So,  though  the 


FIG.  85.— EXPRESSION  FIG.  86.— EXPRESSION  WITH  FIG.  87.— EXPRESSION  WITH 
WITH  THE  FOOT.  THE  FOOT  AND  LEG.  THE  FOOT  AND  KNEE. 

See  pages  130,  145.  See  page  145.  See  page  146. 


one  who  assumes  them  may  imagine  that  they  are  morally 
strong,  we  merely  laugh  at  him. 

The  order  in  which  we  are  to  consider  the  parts  of  the 
body  obliges  us  to  postpone  noticing  the  manifestations 
of  the  conditions  of  thought  through  the  use  of  the  hands 
and  head,  until  after  ending  what  is  to  be  said  of  the  rest  of 
the  form.  Accordingly  these  two  need  mention  here  merely 
so  far  as  they  are  used  conjointly  with  other  members. 
It  has  been  said,  for  instance,  that  the  lower  torso  is  the 


RF PRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES.  I47 


seat  of  the  vital  and  physical,  and  the  upper  of  the  emo- 
tive and  moral  nature.  This  distinction  may  enable  us  to 
gauge  the  controlling  motive.  See  the  position  of  the 
drunkard  in  Fig.  88,  page  147,  also  of  the  man  in  Fig.  27, 
page  61.  In  Fig.  83,  page  144,  the  side  emphasis  of  the 
hips  is  evenly  balanced  by  the  forward  inclination  of  the 
chest.  This  Faun,  therefore,  has,  at  least,  some  soul.  But 
in  Fig.  28,  page  62,  only  the  higher  emotive  nature  is  made 
prominent.  Sometimes  both  the  upper  and  lower  torso 
may  unite  in  an  instinctive  movement 
forward  or  toward  an  object  of  desire  or 
affection.  But  the  moment  that  reflection 
begins  to  have  any  influence  upon  the  in- 
stinctive feelings,  self-conscious  modesty, 
timidity,  or  caution  will  draw  the  torso 
backward.  If,  then,  the  influence  be  ex- 
erted upon  the  instinctive  feelings  alone,  a 
counter  forward  movement  on  the  part  of 
the  head  (Fig.  89,  page  148)  or  eyes  or 
hands  will  interpret  the  secret  which  the 
heart  keeps  hid  (Fig.  91,  page  149).  So 
if  it  be  chiefly  the  thought  that  is  thus  FIQW|^8H  the^ps'01^ 
influenced,  it  will  be  the  head  that  is 
thrust  forward  (see  Fig.  go,  page  148,  also 
a man  at  the  left  in  Fig.  39,  page  79)  or  drawn  backward 
(see  the  head  of  the  Judas  in  Fig.  92,  page  150).  If 
in  connection  with  the  torso  thrust  forward,  the  head  be 
held  back,  this  indicates  that  thought  is  not  yet  in  a 
mood  to  commit  itself  entirely,  but  is  merely  weighing 
that  to  which  desire  impels  (see  the  man  in  Fig.  27, 
page  61).  The  head  held  violently  back  indicates  plotting 
and  scheming,  as  in  Fig.  31,  page  65,  also  the  Judas  in 
Fig.  92,  page  150. 


See  pages  138,  147. 


148  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


The  breast,  shoulders,  and  arms,  so  far  as  the  latter  can 
be  considered  otherwise  than  in  connection  with  the  hand 
gestures,  represent,  for  reasons  that  have  been  given,  the 
condition  of  that  emotive  influence  which  furnishes  the 
motive  for  action,  and,  if  having  to  do  with  conduct,  for 
moral  or  immoral  action.  If  the  breast  swell  gently,  but 
visibly  in  and  out  more  than  is  necessary  for  breathing ; 
or  lean  toward  an  object  (notice  the  John  in  Fig.  92, 
page  150)  or  away  from  it  (notice  the  Judas  in  the  same 
figure)  ; or  if  the 
shoulders  move  for- 
ward and  upward 
(Fig.  91,  page  149),  01- 
backward  and  down- 
ward (Fig.  89,  page 
148) ; or  if  the  elbows 
and  wrists  make  sim- 
ilar movements,  even 
no  more  than  the 
curves  that  they  na- 
turally use  in  walking, 
all  these  movements 

. . WALKING  WITH  FACE 

indicate  the  instinc-  tN  advance. 
tive  promptings  of  See  pages  148,  167, 
the  emotive  nature. 

In  the  degree  in  which  such  movements  are  intense  (Fig. 
91,  page  149),  they  represent  a desire  to  possess  or  to  be 
possessed  by  some  person  or  thing;  and,  in  connection 
with  this,  they  indicate  that  the  emotive  nature  is  in- 
fluenced in  accordance  with  a conscious  mental  purpose. 
The  same  parts  of  the  frame  heaved  rapidly,  rigidly,  and 
angularly  in  the  same  directions  (Figs.  73  and  74,  page  132) 
indicate  that  the  emotive  nature  is  under  the  influence  of 


FIG.  89. 

WALKING  WITH  UPPER 
CHEST  AND  BROW  IN 
ADVANCE. 

See  pages  145,  147, 
148,  169,  172. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES.  1 49 


both  mentality  and  great  excitement.  But,  for  a contrary 
reason,  the  same  parts  of  the  frame  held  in  a straight  up- 
right position  indicate  that  they  are  under  the  sway  of 
that  intelligent  self-control  which  results  when  one  feels 
the  dignity  and  seriousness  of  life  and  its  responsibilities. 
They  represent  emotions  used  or  influenced  in  a good 
sense  morally  (Fig.  93,  page  15  1,  and  Fig.  28,  page  62). 

We  pass  on  now  to 
the  interpretive  move- 
ments of  the  hands  and 
face,'  taking  first  the 
former,  both  because 
they  are  more  closely 
allied  to  the  physical, 
and,  because,  when  un- 
derstood, they  render 
those  of  the  face  more 
easy  to  explain.  Here 
we  shall  follow  an  order 
of  thought  correspond- 
ing in  general  to  that 
already  pursued,  by  con- 
sidering, first,  the  place, 
as  we  might  say,  in  the 
physical  sphere,  about , 
below , or  above  the 
breast,  from  which  the 
effect  of  the  gesture  when  struck  is  produced  ; second,  the 
shape  of  the  hand,  distinctively  interpretive  in  its  nature, 
which  is  assumed  at  the  stroke  of  the  gesture  ; and,  lastly, 
the  movement  of  the  hand  toward  the  body  or  away  from 
it  as  it  is  conveyed  by  the  arms  to  the  place  where  the 
stroke  is  made. 


FIQ.  91.— FAITH,  HOPE,  AND  LOVE. 
See  pages  147,  148,  151,  162,  169. 


150  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

With  reference  to  this  place,  which,  as  has  been  said, 
we  are  to  consider  first,  notice  that  it  may  extend  the 
physical  sphere  of  the  man,  to  those  standing  in  front  of 


FIG.  92.— JUDAS,  PETER,  AND  JOHN,  FROM  THE  LAST  SUPPER  OF 
LEONARDO  DA  VINCI. 

Seepages  147,  148,  158,  167,  i6g,  173,287. 


him,  either  horizontally  or  vertically.  Horizontal  move- 
ments, i.  e .,  those  at  the  sides,  whether  made  in  connection 
with  downward  or  upward  directions  of  the  arms,  make 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES.  I 5 I 

this  sphere  seem  broader.  Breadth,  as  we  have  found, 
is  the  test  of  vital  measurement.  These  horizontal  move- 
ments, therefore,  indicate  one’s  relation  to  other  persons 
or  things  on  the  plane  of  life.  It  follows  from  this  that 
movements  which  extend  to  the  greatest  distance  at  the 
sides,  refer  to  subjects  which  are  conceived  to  be  inclusive 
of  considerations  at  the  greatest  distance  physically, 
and  hence  too,  sometimes,  by  way  of  analogy,  mentally 
and  morally,  from  the  person  making  the  movements. 
They  refer,  therefore,  to  the  comprehen- 
sive, the  broad,  the  abstract,  the  general  (see 
Fig.  28,  page  62;  also  Figs. 97,  page  159,  and 
98,  page  160).  As  from  this  position  they 
gradually  approach  the  body,  their  signi- 
ficance changes  by  degrees  until  they  are 
made  directly  in  front,  as  when  one  strikes 
up  and  down  with  his  finger  ; or  clasps 
the  hands  together  or  points  to  the  breast. 

Then  they  refer  to  what  is  conceived  to 
be  relatively  non-comprehensive,  either 
because  that  to  which  they  refer  is  in 
itself  of  only  narrow  importance,  as  when 
the  finger  is  used  playfully  or  in  stigma- 
tizing (see  Fig.  94,  page  152)  ; or,  if  it  be 
more  important,  is  so  only  because  of 
some  concrete  example  or  specific  appli- 
cation (see  Figs.  82,  page  143,  and  91,  page  149)  ; or  has 
been  so  thoroughly  studied  and  analyzed  that  a man 
feels  that  it  has  become  exclusively  his  own  (see  the 
author  in  Fig.  29,  page  63). 

If,  in  the  gesture,  the  hands  be  carried  so  as  to  extend 
the  sphere  of  the  man  vertically,  they  increase,  when  held 
forward,  which  is  usually  the  case  in  connection  with  the 


FIQ.  93— WALKING 
UPRIGHT. 

See  pages  149, 
169. 


152  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ,4.iVZ?  ARCHITECTURE . 


emphatic  downward  gesture,  what  by  analogy  we  may 
term  the  effects  of  sharpness  (notice  again  the  author 
in  Fig.  29,  page  63).  If  the  hands  be  extended  above  the 
head,  as  in  the  upward  gesture,  they  increase  the  effects 
of  length  (see  Figs.  2,  page  21,  71,  page  132,  82,  page 


FIQ.  94.— ADDING  INSULT  TO  INJURY.  GAETANO  CHIERICI. 

See  pages  151,  156,  263. 


143,  and  84,  page  145).  These  facts  suggest  a correspond- 
ence sufficient  for  our  general  purpose  between  the  down- 
ward gesture  and  the  expression  of  the  mental  nature  and 
the  upward  and  the  expression  of  the  moral  or  higher 
emotive  nature. 


REPRESEN TATION  THROUGH  GESTURES. 


153 


Combining  now,  as  is  always  done  in  practice,  the 
effects  of  the  horizontal  and  the  vertical  directions,  but 
with  main  reference  still  to  the  latter,  we  may  say  that 
there  are  three  planes  in  which  the  stroke  of  a gesture 
may  be  made.  One  is  on  a level  with  the  breast,  which  is 
the  seat  of  the  motive  or  emotive  nature,  or,  as  we  may  say 
(see  page  12),  of  the  soul.  One  is  below  it,  and  one  is 
above  it.  The  principle  underlying  the  phase  of  thought 
represented  by  the  hand,  when  carried  to  either  of  the 
three  planes,  is  as  follows : Every  soul  inside  of  a body 
conceives  of  itself  as  at  the  centre  of  the  universe,  w'hich 
the  horizon  rims,  the  earth  grounds,  and  the  zenith  domes. 
Every  man,  even  the  least  egotistic,  is  compelled  to  think 
that  not  only  the  world  but  the  universe  revolves  around 
himself.  Perhaps  he  is  right — who  knows?  If  God  be 
really  in  that  fourth  dimension  within  us,  and  the  human 
soul  be  really  a focus  in  which  the  rays  from  earth  and 
heaven  meet  and  blend,  how  far  is  this  from  the  truth  ? 
But  whether  right  or  wrong,  a man  cannot  rid  himself  of 
this  conception.  When  he  gestures,  he  cannot  do  other- 
wise than  give  expression  to  it.  His  hands  are  carried  on 
a level  with  the  breast  to  represent  what  he  conceives  to 
be  on  a physical,  and  hence,  by  analogy,  a mental  or 
moral  level  with  himself.  They  move  before  him  to  indi- 
cate that  which  he  really  sees  there,  or  to  refer  ideally  to 
the  truth  or  hope  that  he  anticipates  in  the  future.  They 
move  behind  him  to  indicate  that  which  is  really  behind 
him,  something  that  he  has  abandoned  or  turned  from 
possibly  with  loathing  or  regret ; or  they  may  refer  ideally 
to  a condition  of  opinion  and  life  beyond  which  he  has 
progressed.  They  move  to  one  side  to  refer  to  some 
actual  physical  presence  there,  or,  ideally,  if  the  gesture 
indicate  exclusion,  to  something  that  is  a side  issue  from 


154  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

the  main  line  of  thought;  possibly  to  some  course  that  is  a 
diversion  from  straight-forward  action.  But  if  the  gesture 
indicate  inclusion,  it  refers  to  the  general  and  compre- 
hensive. The  hands  are  carried  below  the  breast  to 
represent  that  which  one  conceives  to  be  physically 
mentally,  or  morally  below  himself ; i.e.,  below  his  sight, 
comprehension,  or  control ; to  indicate  a pathway,  an  idea 
that  he  can  understand,  a power  that  he  can  master. 
They  are  carried  above  the  breast  to  represent  that  which 
he  conceives  to  be  physically,  mentally,  or  morally  above 
himself ; above  his  sight,  conception,  or  control;  to  indi- 
cate a star,  a grand  idea,  a mighty  force. 

In  applying  these  principles,  it  must  always  be  borne  in 
mind  that  the  different  directions  taken  by  the  gesture  rep- 
resent not  what  actually  is,  but  what  a man  conceives  to 
be.  Most  of  the  published  discussions  of  this  subject  do  not 
sufficiently  emphasize  this  fact.  We  are  told,  for  instance, 
that  good  and  God  must  receive  upward  gestures,  and 
bad  and  the  Devil  downward  gestures.  But  this  depends 
entirely  upon  one’s  point  of  view,  upon  his  conception. 
The  expression,  “ Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,”  would 
require  a downward  and  backward  gesture,  because  the 
speaker  would  conceive  of  Satan  as  below  and  behind  him- 
self morally  ; but  the  expression  : 

There  was  a Brutus  once  that  would  have  brooked 

The  Eternal  Devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome 

As  easily  as  a king — 

Shakespeare : Julius  Casar,  i.,  2. 

would  require  an  upward  and  forward  gesture,  because  in 
it  Satan  is  conceived  of  as  a foe  of  overwhelming  force, 
whom  one  is  facing,  therefore  as  one  physically  above  and 
before  the  speaker,  and  not  by  any  means  below  or 
behind  him. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES. 


i5S 


Now  let  us  consider  the  shapes  assumed  by  the  hand  in 
the  place  where  the  gesture  is  struck.  There  may  be  said 
to  be  three  of  these  shapes,  namely,  that  of  the  fist,  of  the 
finger,  and  of  the  exposed  palm.  These  all  seem  to  inter- 
pret the  gesture  mentally  by  adding  significance  to  its 
mode  of  emphasis.  We  shall  find  that  they  represent, 
respectively,  vital,  i.  e.,  physical  emphasis,  showing  the  in- 
fluence of  will ; mental  emphasis,  showing  the  influence  of 
thought  ; and  motive  emphasis,  showing  the  influence  of 
emotion.  In  appearance,  too,  they  correspond  in  broad- 
ness, sharpness,  and  length  to  the  forms  already  found 
to  represent  corresponding  conceptions. 

Of  the  truth  of  these  statements  there  can  be  no  doubt 
in  the  mind  of  one  who  thinks  of  them.  All  must  recog- 
nize that  the  fist,  the  broadest,  roundest  form  that  the 
hand  can  assume,  represents,  as  nearly  as  any  shape  pos- 
sible for  it,  vital  and  physical  emphasis,  will-power  applied 
to  the  impression  of  ideas.  Just  as  a fist  threatens  with 
a power  greater  than  one’s  own,  if  held  above  one’s  head ; 
and  with  one’s  own  power,  if  held  on  a level  with  one’s 
breast,  so  it  manifests  strength  of  conviction  and  a deter- 
mination to  pound  the  truth  into  an  opponent,  if  made 
in  connection  with  a downward  gesture  of  emphasis. 

Equally  evident  is  the  meaning  of  the  pointing  finger. 
It  is  the  sharpest  form  that  the  hand  can  assume,  and, 
according  to  what  has  been  said,  should  represent  inter- 
pretive mentality.  This  it  undoubtedly  does.  When  we 
point  to  an  object,  we  do  so  not  as  an  exhibition  of  will 
or  emotion,  but  of  thought.  Nor  do  we  wish  others  to 
do  anything  beyond  concentrating  their  thought  upon  it. 
This  is  certainly  true  of  the  finger  gesture  wherever  used 
descriptively,  whether  it  point  downward  (see  two  figures 
in  Fig.  80,  page  139),  upward  (see  one  figure  in  Fig.  39, 


156  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

page  79).  to  the  front  (see  the  boy  in  Fig.  94,  page  152), 
or  to  one  side  (see  Fig.  76,  page  134).  This  is  true  even 
when  made  with  all  but  the  forefinger  clinched  into  an 
unmistakable  fist.  This  fist  merely  causes  the  gesture  to 
stigmatize  and  denounce  with  a more  physical  and  forcible 
effect.  When  used  as  a gesture  of  emphasis,  too,  the 
finger  means  the  same.  It  directs  attention  to  the  small, 
delicate,  and  subtle  points  of  conceptions,  arguments,  or 
series  of  facts  upon  which  the  speaker  wishes  to  concen- 
trate not  the  energies  or  emotions  of  himself  or  his 
audience,  but  their  powers  of  analytic  thought.  Notice 
the  author  in  Fig.  29,  page  63  ; also  two  figures  at  the 
right  of  Fig.  39,  page  79.  In  Fig.  69,  page  129,  the  finger 
on  the  chin  indicates  that  the  man  has  analyzed  suffi- 
ciently to  understand  exactly  what  course  of  action  his 
will  is  to  choose  or  reject.  All  the  fingers  on  the  brow  in 
Fig.  70,  page  13 1,  indicate  a general  state  of  confusion  with 
reference  to  the  thought  that  is  being  considered. 

Last  of  all,  we  have  the  gesture  with  the  fingers  and 
thumb  unfolded  from  the  palm,  and  displaying  all  their 
length.  According  to  the  principles  to  which  reference 
has  already  been  made  so  often,  this  shape  ought  to  rep- 
resent the  motive  or  emotive  attitude.  The  moment 
that  we  examine  closely  the  way  in  which  the  gesture  is 
used,  we  cannot  doubt  that  this  is  precisely  what  it  does 
represent.  There  are  two  forms  of  it,  namely,  the  closing , 
in  which  the  palm  is  averted,  i.  e.,  turned  away  from  the 
body,  where  the  speaker  cannot  see  it,  as  in  Figs.  95, 
page  157,  7 1,  72>  Page  '32,  and  75-  page  134;  and  the 
opening , in  which  the  position  is  reversed,  where  the 
palm  is  held  so  that  the  speaker  can  see  it,  as  in  Figs.  96, 
97,  page  1 59,  and  98,  page  160.  The  closing  gesture  seems 
to  push  downward,  upward,  backward,  forward  or  side- 


157 


FIG.  95.— CAIN  BY  GIOVANNI  DUPRE. 

See  pages  150,  15S,  281. 


153  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

ward,  as  if  to  keep  all  external  things  or  thoughts 
from  touching  or  influencing  the  one  who  is  gesturing. 
It  seems  to  close  all  channels  of  communication  between 
him  and  the  outside  world.  Notice  how  the  left  hand  of 
the  Christ  in  Fig.  So,  page  139,  seems  to  separate  him 
from  the  woman  before  him.  The  opening  gesture  seems 
prepared  to  give  and  receive  things  or  thoughts  from 
every  quarter;  and  thus  to  open  these  channels.  Notice 
the  right  hand  of  the  Christ  in  the  same  Fig.  80,  page  139. 
Both  gestures,  therefore,  seem  to  represent  the  motive  or 
emotive  attitude. 

To  extend  what  has  been  said,  the  closing  gesture, 
being  used  to  reject  (Fig.  75,  page  1 34),  to  ward  off  (Fig.  74, 
page  132),  to  deny  (Fig.  75,  page  134),  what  is  unpleasant 
(Fig.  72,  page  132),  threatening  (Fig.  95,  page  157),  or  un- 
truthful (notice  the  man  at  the  right  in  Fig.  39,  page  79), 
is  used  descriptively  to  refer  to  anything  having  these 
characteristics,  to  anything,  therefore,  like  a storm,  an 
avalanche,  a disgusting  sight,  a foe,  or  any  supposed 
source  of  plotting  or  hostility  (see  Fig.  95,  page  157). 
For  an  analogous  reason,  as  applied  to  abstract  thought, 
it  is  naturally  used  by  one  who  is  in  a mood  to  dogmatize, 
to  dictate  (see  the  hands  of  two  men  standing  at  the  right 
behind  the  ox  in  Fig.  164,  page 279), or  to  express  any  con- 
ception, concerning  which  he  is  not  in  a condition  to  re- 
ceive suggestions  from  others.  Notice  the  left  hand  of 
Judas  in  Fig.  92,  page  150;  also  the  finger  gesture  in  Fig. 
76,  page  134.  It  indicates,  therefore,  everything  which 
one  does  not  care  to  submit  to  others  as  an  open  question, 
a question  left  for  them  to  decide.  In  accordance  with 
what  was  said  in  the  last  paragraph,  it  closes  the  channel 
of  influence,  as  this  comes  from  others,  and  seems  to  say, 
simply:  “This  is  my  opinion.  I hold  it  irrespective  of 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES. 


159 


anything  that  you  may  hold.”  Derived  from  this  expres- 
sional  use  of  the  gesture,  is  a secondary  descriptive  use  of 
it,  according  to  which  it  is  made  to  refer  to  anything 
which  the  mind  cannot  conceive  to  be  an  open  question 
for  others  to  think  of  as  they  choose,  therefore  to  any- 
thing which,  if  thought  of  at  all,  must  be  thought  of  in 
only  one  way.  Thus  “impending  fate,”  or  “the  laws 
controlling  the  universe,”  would  be  indicated  by  high 
closing  gestures. 

Closing  ges- 
tures, too,  would 
be  used  when 
referring  to  any 
object  that  to 
the  mind’s  eye 
has  definite  out- 
lines, like  a cliff, 
or  house.  If  ob- 
jectslike this  be 
small,  the  finger 
usually  points 

to  them,  but  the  fig.  97.— sideward  descrip- 

youngest  child  TivE  0PENINQ  gesture. 

• , , See  pages  138,  151,  156,  160. 

never  points  to  v & 

a thing  that  has  definite  outlines  with  the  palm  up.  It  is 

always  down.  It  is  not  an  open  question  how  one  shall 

conceive  of  a particular  horse  or  dog:  and  so  the  closing 

gesture  with  the  index  finger,  shuts  out  all  appeal.  The 

mind  of  the  speaker  cannot  be  satisfied  unless  the  hearer 

conceives  of  these  objects  just  as  he  does  (see  Fig.  76, 

page  134). 

The  opening  gesture  indicates  exactly  the  opposite. 
Being  used  to  welcome  or  impart  what  is  pleasant,  inter- 


FIQ.  96.— DOWNWARD 
OPENING  GESTURE. 

See  pages  156,  160. 


l6o  PAINTING , SCUPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

esting  or  important,  it  naturally  refers,  in  a descriptive 
way,  to  any  thing  or  thought  having  these  characteristics, 
to  anything  conceived  of,  therefore,  as  being  freely 
given  (see  the  man  in  Fig.  27,  page  61)  or  received  like  a 
gift  or  purchase,  or  like  friendship,  joy,  knowledge,  pros- 
perity, or  blessedness  (see  the  right  hand  in  Fig.  82,  page 
143).  As  accompanying  an  expression  of  abstract  thought, 
it  evidently  is  in  place  whenever  one  submits  an  opinion 
as  an  open  question  for  others  to  consider  and  decide  as 
they  may  deem  fit.  It  is  the  gesture,  therefore  of  inquiry, 
persuasion,  and  appeal  (Fig.  96,  page  1 59).  “ They  should 
be  put  to  death,”  uttered  with  the 
closing  gesture,  means : “ This  is  my 
opinion,  and  I hold  it  irrespective  of 
anything  that  you  may  think  about 
it.”  The  same  words,  uttered  with  the 
opening  gesture,  mean  : “ This  is  my 
opinion  ; do  you  not,  should  you  not, 
in  view  of  all  the  arguments  that  I have 
used,  agree  with  me?”  Derived  from 
this  expressional  use  of  the  opening 
gesture,  is  a secondary  descriptive  use 
of  it,  causing  it  to  refer  to  anything  of 
a doubtful,  indefinite  nature,  which  it 
is  an  open  question  for  others  to  think 
of  as  they  choose.  It  would  be  used  in  mentioning 
a “ smiling  country,”  or  a “ sunny  landscape  ” (Fig. 
9 7,  page  159).  In  conceiving  of  these,  the  speaker 
does  not  have  in  mind,  nor  does  he  wish  the  hearer 
to  have  in  mind,  any  fixed  or  definite  object.  Im- 
agination can  fill  in  the  outlines  as  it  chooses,  and 
the  gesture  indicates  this  fact.  So  “ liberty,”  “ prog- 
ress,” and  “ blessedness  ” receive  the  high  opening  ges- 


FIQ.  98.— UPWARD 
OPENING  GESTURE. 

See  pages  151,  161. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES. 


1 6 r 


ture,  partly  because  they  are  always  welcome,  yet  partly, 
too,  because  the  results  of  them  may  manifest  any  one  of 
a thousand  different  effects,  which  the  mind  of  the  listener 
is  left  free  to  conjure  according  to  his  fancy  (Fig.  98, 
page  160;  see  also  Fig.  82,  page  143).  The  benediction  after 
religious  services  in  church,  as  given  with  the  closing  ges- 
tures, corresponding  to  the  position  in  Fig.  71,  page  132, 
is  ritualistic.  It  imparts  constraining  grace.  As  given 
with  the  opening  gesture,  corresponding  to  the  position 
in  Fig.  98,  page  160,  it  is  evangelical.  It  solicits  inspiring 
grace.  So  the  hand  of  the  woman  accepting  the  offer  of 
marriage  in  Fig.  27,  page  61,  not  only  indicates  embarrass- 
ment, as  said  on  page  61.  It  also  imparts,  without  in- 
tention, the  information  that  she  is  the  one  who  will  not 
yield,  but  will  rule  and  dictate  when  the  wedding  has  been 
consummated.  The  pointing  finger,  too,  when  the  palm 
is  in  the  position  of  an  open  gesture,  does  not  mean  the 
same  as  when  it  is  in  the  position  of  the  closing  gesture. 
In  the  former  case  it  does  not  point  merely  to  definite 
objects  ; it  points  to  open  possibilities.  What  is  upper- 
most in  the  mind  of  the  man  at  the  left  of  the  Christ  in 
Fig.  80,  page  139,  is  to  ask  a question,  “What  shall  be 
done  in  view  of  that  to  which  I point  ? What  is  up- 
permost in  the  mind  of  the  man  pointing  upward  at  the 
right  of  Fig.  39,  page  79,  is  to  indicate  a source  from 
which  one  can  receive  inspiration  ; and  he  is  beckoning — 
asking  others  to  consider  it.  The  motive  is  thus  that  of 
the  opening  gesture. 

A few  sentences  more  will  embody  all  that  needs  to  be 
added  with  reference  to  the  meanings  of  the  movements 
of  the  hand  while  being  conveyed  by  the  arm  to  the  place 
towards  which  the  gesture  is  aimed.  All  these  move- 
ments, of  course,  as  follows  from  what  has  been  said, 


162  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

whether  suggesting  forms  of  curves,  straight  lines,  or 
angles,  give  expression,  in  a general  way,  to  the  motive 
or  emotive  nature  ; the  degrees  of  vitality  entering  into 
this  being  best  indicated  by  the  action  of  the  shoulders 
(see  Fig.  91,  page  149) ; the  degrees  of  interpretive  intent, 
by  the  adjustments  of  the  wrist  and  the  hand  and  fingers 
below  it  (See  Fig.  82,  page  143);  and  the  degrees  of  the 
operating  motive  pure  and  simple  by  the  action  of  the 
elbows  (Notice  the  hints  of  this  always  conveyed  by  their 
nudge). 

These  movements,  moreover,  by  which  are  meant  now 
those  that  are  preparatory  to  the  gesture,  irrespective  of 
the  place  to  which  the  hand  is  conveyed,  may  be  made 
with  a general  direction  away  from  the  body,  toward  the 
body ; or  both  away  from  it  and  also  toward  it.  When 
used  descriptively,  they  refer,  respectively  to  other  things 
than  self  (notice  the  right  hand  in  Fig.  82,  page  143),  to  self 
(notice  the  left  hand  in  Fig.  82),  or  to  both  ; i.  e.  to  the 
relations  between  other  things  and  self.  Used  mainly  for 
emphasis,  the  hands,  when  moving  away  from  the  body, 
represent  a full,  unembarrassed  and,  in  this  sense,  instinc- 
tive expression  of  the  actuating  motive.  They  indicate, 
like  the  falling  inflection  of  the  voice,  that  the  mind  has 
come  to  a positive  and  decisive  conclusion.  When  the 
hands  move  toward  the  body  (see  page  129),  the  gestures 
are  reflective  ; and  represent  something  in  thought  that 
checks  the  expression  of  the  motive,  something  physical 
in  phase,  if  they  end  near  the  abdomen  (Fig.  81,  page 
142),  mental  if  near  the  head  (Fig.  69,  page  129),  and 
emotional  or  moral  if  near  the  heart  (Fig.  82,  page  143). 
They  indicate,  like  the  rising  inflection  of  the  voice,  that 
the  mind  is  thinking  but  has  come  to  no  conclusion  ; that 
it  is  asking  a question  ; that  it  is  influenced  by  doubt, 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  GESTURES.  1 63 

perhaps,  or  surprise  (notice  the  representation  of  this  in 
Fig.  99,  page  163)  ; the  mood  is,  at  least,  anticipative  and 
indecisive.  When  the  hands  move  both  from  the  body 
and  also  toward  it  as  in  Fig.  99,  or,  as  is  the  case  in  the 
most  common  emphatic  oratorical  gesture,  both  toward  it 
and  from  it,  they  represent  a 
combination  of  the  two  con- 
ceptions already  mentioned. 

The  effect  then  is  exactly  par- 
allel to  that  of  the  circumflex 
inflection  (see  “ Orator’s  Man- 
ual,” pp.  56—59).  If  thegestures 
begin  with  the  movement  to- 
ward the  body,  this  indicates 
that  the  man  has  asked  a ques- 
tion ; and  if  they  end  with  the 
movement  away  from  it,  that, 
in  his  own  mind,  as  a result  of 
due  examination  and  a consid- 
eration of  arguments  pro  and 
con , he  has  answered  the  question.  The  first  direction 
shows  that  there  has  been  indecision,  the  second  that  he 
has  come  to  a conclusion  ; the  first  that  he  has  investi- 
gated, the  second  that  he  has  reached  a definite  result. 
The  suggestion  of  both  facts  in  this  gesture  causes  it  to 
convey  an  impression  of  breadth  of  thought  as  well  as  of 
intensity. 

If  the  order  of  the  movements  be  reversed,  as  often  in 
dramatic  gestures  (Fig.  99,  page  163),  of  course  their 
meaning  is  reversed.  But  whatever  be  their  order,  it  is 
evident  that  movements  preparatory  to  starting  the  final 
stroke  of  a gesture,  in  the  degree  in  which  they  are  contin- 
ued through  a long  time  or  cover  a large  space,  enhance 


FIG.  99.— BOV  SURPRISED. 
See  pages  130,  163,  171. 


1 64  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


the  representative  effect,  inasmuch  as  they  indicate  thus 
the  degree  in  which  the  mind  has  reached  the  opinion 
which  it  expresses  as  a result  of  weighing  the  possibilities 
both  in  favor  of  this  opinion  and  against  it. 

For  further  suggestions  with  reference  to  this  subject, 
especially  as  applied  to  oratory,  the  reader  is  referred  to 
the  interpretations  of  the  meanings  of  the  movements 
described  by  the  arms  when  preparing  for  the  gestures, 
as  well  as  to  the  explanations  of  the  methods  of  making 
them,  and  of  learning  to  make  them,  which  are  detailed 
in  full  in  the  author’s  “ Orator’s  Manual.” 


CHAPTER  X. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  POSITIONS  AND  MOVE- 
MENTS OF  TPIE  HEAD  AND  FACE. 


Correspondencies  between  Gestures  of  the  Head  and  of  the  Rest  of  the  Body 
— Physical  Movements  of  the  Head  toward  or  from  Objects  or  Persons, 
Directly,  Sideward,  or  Obliquely — Phases  of  Mentality  Suggested  by 
its  Different  Parts — Illustrations  of  how  these  Parts  Operate  in  Con- 
nection with  the  Movements — Complicated  Nature  of  Expression  by 
Movements  of  the  Head,  Eyes,  and  Facial  Muscles — Meaning  of  Move- 
ments or  Positions  of  the  Head  Forward  with  the  Eyes  Looking  on  a 
Level — With  the  Eyes  Looking  Downward — Or  Upward — Meaning 
of  Movements  or  Positions  of  the  Head  Backward  with  the  Eyes  Look- 
ing on  a Level — With  the  Eyes  Looking  Downward — Or  Upward — 
Meaning  of  Normal  Positions  of  the  Head — Difficulty  of  Distinguishing 
between  these  Different  Movements  or  Positions — Facial  Expression 
Corresponding  to  Shapes  Assumed  by  the  Fingers  in  Hand  Gestures — • 
— Rigid  Physical  Effects  like  those  of  the  Fist  with  Mouth,  Brows  and 
Nose — Mental  Effects  of  Concentration,  like  those  of  the  Finger — 
Emotive  Effects  as  in  the  Closing  and  Opening  Gestures,  through  LTsing 
Muscles  of  the  Mouth — -The  Eyebrows — The  Eyes — The  Nostrils — 
Outline  Diagrams  of  Different  Effects — Comic  Effects. 


HP  HE  gestures  of  the  head  involve  many  different  ele- 
ments, which  can  be  understood  most  readily,  per- 
haps, if  we  begin  by  noticing  the  ways  in  which  their  various 
effects  correspond  to  certain  of  those  already  considered. 
Of  course,  the  entire  head  has  to  do  with  the  representation 
of  mentality  ; but  different  phases  of  emphasis  are  imparted 
in  connection  with  this.  The  movements  of  the  whole 


1 66  PAINTING , SC  UP  TUP  E , AA09  ARCHITECTURE. 


head,  as  produced  by  the  neck,  must  manifest  merely  a 
more  mental  phase  of  the  kind  of  emphasis  produced  by 
movements  with  other  parts  of  the  body.  With  this  un- 
derstanding, it  will  be  recognized  that,  according  to  what 
was  said  on  page  129,  the  movement  forward  is  vital,  the 
movement  backward  is  mental,  the  movement  sideward 
(see  page  151),  oblique  or  rotary  is  emotive,  and,  often, 
as  in  denying  or  threatening,  emotively  unsympathetic. 
But  besides  these  movements  of  the  whole  head  we  have 
what  is  termed  facial  expression,  imparting  phases  of  em- 
phasis far  more  distinctively  interpretive  of  mental  pro- 
cesses. The  factors  entering  into  facial  expression,  too, 
can  be  analyzed.  They  are,  first,  the  glances  of  the  eye  in  a 
forward,  sideward,  downward,  or  upward  direction.  These 
indicate  the  outlook,  and  correspond  to  the  effects  pro- 
duced by  the  hand  when,  as  carried  by  the  arms,  it  is  aimed 
in  similar  directions.  Next  are  to  be  noticed  the  adjust- 
ments of  the  muscles  of  the  countenance.  These,  as  we 
shall  find,  correspond  to  the  distinctively  interpretive 
adjustments  of  palm,  thumb,  and  fingers;  and  in  a very 
general  way,  it  may  be  said  that  the  contraction  of  all  the 
muscles  corresponds  to  the  fist  gesture  ; of  the  same 
horizontally,  as  between  the  eyes  and  in  the  nostrils  and 
lips,  to  the  finger  gesture  ; of  the  same  vertically,  as  in 
lowering  brows  and  compressed  lips,  to  the  closing  gesture  ; 
and  the  relaxing  of  the  muscles  to  the  opening  gesture. 
Lastly,  here  as  elsewhere  in  the  body,  active  combinations 
of  the  other  two  methods  of  expression,  through  the  eye 
and  facial  muscles,  produce  special  effects  of  their  own. 

Beginning  with  the  head  as  a whole,  it  is  well  to  notice, 
first,  that,  in  accordance  with  what  was  said  on  page  129,  a 
general  forward  movement  toward  an  object  or  person 
indicates  mentality  when  most  under  control  of  instinctive 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HEAD  AND'  PACE.  1 67 

(notice  the  slight  mental  force  in  Fig.  100,  page  167, 
also  the  Peter  in  Fig.  92,  page  150),  vital,  (Fig.  90,  page 
148),  physical,  and  in  this  sense  objective  (P  ig.  73,  page 
132),  or  sometimes  aggressive  promptings  (Fig.  31,  page 
65).  A general  backward  movement  away  from  an  object 
or  person  indicates  the  contrary,  i.  e.,  reflective  and  so 
contemplative  (Fig.  101,  page  169),  cautious  (notice  the 
Judas  in  Fig.  92,  page  150),  or  unaggressive  prompt- 
ing, as  in  the  figures  to  the  left  of  Ananias  in  Fig. 
39’  Page  79-  A general  sideward  movement,  as  in  the 
John  in  Fig.  92,  page  150,  also 
in  Figs.  82,  page  143  ; 1 12,  page 
176;  1 14,  page  177,  and  1 17, 
page  177,  indicates  an  emotive 
influence,  a conciousness  of  the 
relation  of  the  subject  of  con- 
sideration to  persons  surround- 
ing one.  Movements  both  for- 
ward and  sideward,  or  oblique, 
indicate  a combination  of  the 
vital  and  emotive ; and  move- 
ments both  backward  and  side- 
ward, a combination  of  the  re- 
flective and  emotive.  But  in  either  form  oblique  move- 
ments, if  accompanied  by  hostile  facial  expressions, 
menace  either  vitally  or  mentally  in  the  strongest  way 
(Figs.  73,  page  132,  and  74,  page  132). 

Closely  connected  with  these  physical  effects  of  the 
head  are  the  different  phases  of  mentality  represented  in 
its  different  parts  or  features.  According  to  phrenology 
and  physiognomy,  as  we  have  found,  its  lower  back  and 
sides  and  the  lower  jaw  reveal  the  most  with  reference  to 
the  vital  or  physical  tendencies  (see  Fig.  61,  page  1 1 5) ; 


F!Q.  100. -CREDULITY. 

See  pages  167,  168,  171,  174. 


1 68  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

the  region  about  the  forehead,  temples,  and  eyes,  the  most 
with  reference  to  that  which  is  purely  mental ; and  the 
middle  region  of  the  crown,  and  of  the  face,  including  the 
nose,  the  most  with  reference  to  that  which  is  emotive  in 
the  highest  sense,  or  moral.  Whatever,  therefore,  gives 
prominence  to  any  of  these  parts  by  thrusting  them  for- 
ward, gives  prominence  to  the  associations  connected  with 
them.  Notice  on  page  129  what  is  said  of  Figs.  70,  page 
13 1,  and  80,  page  139.  Of  course,  if  the  parts  be  deficient 
in  size  or  shape,  the  effect  produced  by  them  will  be 
lessened  in  degree.  But  it  will  not  be  changed  in  charac- 
ter. It  needs  to  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that,  in  con- 
nection with  each  possible  position  of  the  head  or  eyes, 
there  may  be  a conception  of  what  is  pleasurable  or  un- 
pleasurable.  Precisely  the  same  position  of  the  head  and 
direction  of  the  eye  may  represent  both  faith  and  fear. 
Which  of  the  two  it  is  can  be  interpreted  only  by  the 
facial  muscles.  Again,  too,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
all  the  effects  that  we  are  to  consider  are  produced  by 
way  of  contrast.  A projected  forehead,  for  instance, 
represents  mentality,  as  contrasted  with  the  vitality  which 
would  be  represented  were  the  chin  projected.  But 
whether  the  mentality  be  owing  to  a presence  of  thought, 
or  merely  to  an  absence  of  physical  force,  must  be  deter- 
mined by  the  expression  of  the  eyes  and  facial  muscles 
accompanying  the  position. 

The  reader  will  now  understand  what  is  meant  when  it 
is  said  that  if,  in  connection  with  a general  forward  or 
aggressive  movement  of  the  head  toward  an  object  or 
person,  the  face  be  held  so  that  the  chin  is  in  advance, 
this  indicates,  if  not  aggressive  vitality  or  physical  force 
(see  St.  Michael  in  Fig.  58,  page  104),  at  least  unaggressive 
mentality  (Fig.  100,  page  167).  This  is  a position  often 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION  THR  O UGH  HE  A D A ND  FACE.  1 69 

assumed  where  a man  has  waived  the  exercise  of  his  own 
thought,  in  order  to  listen  to  what  others  think,  as  partly 
indicated  in  Fig.  112,  page  176.  If  the  face  be  held  so 
that  the  forehead  is  in  advance,  this  indicates  if  not 
aggressive  mentality  (notice  the  gambler  at  the  left  of 
Fig.  160,  page  271)  at  least,  for  the  time  being,  unaggressive 
vitality  (Fig.  89,  page  148).  If  the  face  be  held  so  that, 
on  the  whole,  neither  chin  nor  forehead,  but  rather  the 
nose,  is  in  advance,  this 
indicates  if  not  aggressive 
emotive  or  moral  force, 
such  as  we  see  in  the  ordi- 
nary expression  of  eager- 
ness (Fig.  91,  page  149),  at 
least  unaggressive  vitality 
or  mentality  (Fig.  93,  page 
1 51).  Corresponding  con- 
ditions in  connection  with 
a general  backward  and 
therefore  unaggressive 
movement  indicate  corre- 
sponding tendencies,  end- 
ing in  mental  reflection. 

The  slight  projection  of  the  fig.  101.— unyielding  contemplation. 
chin  in  Fig.  IOI,  page  169,  Seepages  167,  169,  175. 

indicates  such  reflection 

with  reference  to  something  depending  upon  the  exercise 
of  vital  force  or  will-power.  A stronger  indication  of  the 
same  may  be  seen  in  the  position  of  the  man  in  Fig.  27, 
page  61,  and  of  the  Judas  in  Fig.  92,  page  150.  The  slight 
projection  of  the  forehead  of  the  Napoleon  in  Fig.  63, 
page  1 16,  indicates  reflection  with  reference  to  something 
depending  on  the  exercise  of  thought,  as  does,  still  more 


170  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

decidedly,  that  of  the  Mephistopheles  in  Fig.  50,  page  99. 
The  positions  of  the  heads  of  the  man  and  the  woman  to 
the  left  of  Ananias  in  Fig.  39,  page  79,  indicate,  as  should 
be  the  case  in  a representation  of  primitive  Christians, 
that  even  balance  of  vital  and  mental  tendencies  which 
characterizes  the  sway  of  higher  emotive  or  moral  con- 
siderations. 

It  will  be  recognized  at  once  that  expression  by  means 
of  the  positions  and  movements  of  the  head  is  compli- 
cated. But  this  will  become  still  more  evident  when  we 
take  into  consideration  the  fact  that  the  suggestions  con- 
veyed by  the  movements  of  the  head  before  assuming  its 
position,  and  also  by  the  directions  of  the  glances  of  the 
eyes,  and  by  the  adjustments  of  the  muscles  of  the  coun- 
tenance, are  often  such  as  to  give  a radically  different 
meaning  from  that  which  would  be  given  by  merely  one 
of  these  methods  of  expression  considered  by  itself.  For 
this  reason,  the  same  desire  to  present  this  subject  with 
clearness,  which,  so  far,  has  led  us  to  treat  of  each  factor 
of  emphasis  separately,  must  lead  us  here  to  treat  of  all 
the  factors  when  acting  in  conjunction.  The  most  feasible 
way  of  doing  this,  and  of  preserving,  at  the  same  time,  an 
order  of  thought  approximately  similar  to  that  which  has 
been  pursued  up  to  this  point,  seems  to  be  to  take  the 
possible  movements  of  the  whole  head,  and  notice  the 
modifications  of  the  significance  of  each  of  these  as  im- 
parted by  the  possible  direction  of  the  glances  of  the  eye. 
Later,  we  can  notice  the  modifications  of  significance  as 
imparted  by  the  facial  muscles  of  the  lower,  higher,  and 
middle  parts  of  the  countenance. 

To  consider,  first,  combinations  of  movements  of  the 
head  and  of  the  eye,  we  have  found  that  a thrusting  of 
the  head  forward , even  if  sideward,  toward  objects  or 


REPRESENTA  TION  THROUGH  HEAD  AND  PACE.  1 7 I 


persons  is  expressive  of  vital  force  or  aggressiveness.  If, 
in  connection  with  a non-excited  and  usually,  therefore,  a 
non-hostile  expression  of  countenance,  this  movement  be 
accompanied  by  a glance  of  the  eyes  neither  upward  nor 
downward,  but  on  a level  with  their  outlook,  while,  too, 
the  chin  is  in  advance,  the  mode  of  expression  naturally 
represents  a weak,  because  not  mentally  aggressive,  con- 
dition— such  as  may  be  noticed  in  surprise  (Fig.  99,  page 
163),  or  interrogation  (see  the  credulity  in  Fig.  IOO,  page 
167).  In  the  degree  however,  in  which  there  is  a determined 
expression  of  countenance,  the  suggestion  of  physical  force 
overbalances  that 
of  mental  weakness 
(Fig.  90,  page  148), 
and  a hostile  ex- 
pression, especially 
with  a combination 
of  a forward  and 
a sideward  move- 
ment imparts  a 
physical  threat 
(Fig.  31,  page  65). 

T his  sideward 
leaning  of  the  head,  as  has  been  said,  suggests  emotion 
exercised  toward  a person.  If,  then,  the  eyes  look  in  the 
same  direction  as  that  in  which  the  chin  is  advanced,  which 
means  in  an  opposite  direction  from  the  inclination  of  the 
forehead,  thought  appears  to  be  withheld  from  the  person 
or  his  opinions.  If  the  eyebrow  be  normal,  this  may  rep- 
resent slight  suspicion  (Fig.  102,  page  171),  and  if  they  be 
knit,  strong  disapproval  or  scheming  (Fig.  103,  page  1 7 1 ). 
The  head  thrust  forward,  the  eyes  looking  forward,  and 
the  brow  in  advance,  represents  more  mental  force,  as  in 


FIG-  102.— AMIABLE 
SUSPICION. 

See  pages  171,  186. 


FIG.  103.— UNAMIABLE 
SUSPICION. 

See  pages  171,  177. 


172  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

intelligent  questioning  (Fig.  104,  page  172),  serious  doubt 
or  perplexity  (Fig.  89,  page  148),  or  strong  assertion  (see 
the  author  in  Fig.  29,  page  63).  The  same  forward  move- 
ment of  the  head  and  glance  of  the  eye  with  the  head 
falling  slightly,  then  lifting  immediately,  as  in  the  ordi- 
nary nod,  which  need  not  be  illustrated,  indicates  that  the 
man,  after  considering  whether  or  not  there  is  any  neces- 
sity of  placing  himself  in  an  attitude  of  serious  questioning 
or  assertion,  has  found  none.  The  action  therefore  ex- 
presses his  acceptance  of  existing  conditions.  It  gives 
assent.  A hostile  expression  of 
countenance  with  the  head  thrust 
forward,  the  eye  looking  forward, 
and  the  brow  in  advance,  especially 
if  the  movement  be  sideward,  also 
conveys  a more  thoughtful  and 
calculating  threat  than  when  the 
chin  is  in  advance  (see  Fig.  73, 
page  132).  The  mere  leaning  of 
the  head  to  one  side  when  thus 
thrust  forward  with  the  eyes  look- 
ing in  the  same  direction  in  which 
the  brow  is  advanced,  indicates, 
if  the  eyebrows  be  normal  and 
friendly,  affection  mingled  with  respect  and  confidence 
exercised  toward  the  one  toward  whom  the  brow  leans 
(Fig.  105,  page  173)  ; but  if  the  eyebrows  be  knit  and  hos- 
tile, the  same  position  may  indicate  a menace  toward  one 
respected  enough  to  be  feared  (see  the  man  at  the  left  in 
Fig.  160,  page  271). 

If,  when  the  head  is  thrust  forward,  the  eyes  look  dowu- 
zvard,  the  position  indicates  that  the  man  is  conscious  of 
the  subject  of  thought,  whether  a person  or  an  idea,  as 


FIQ.  104.— THOUGHTFUL 
ATTENTION. 

See  pages  119,  172,  187. 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION  7 'HR  O UGH  II EA  D A ND  FACE.  1 7 3 


socially,  intellectually,  or  morally  below  his  sight,  concep- 
tion, or  control.  If  then  the  features  of  his  countenance 
be  restful  and  non-excited,  he  is  endeavoring  to  examine, 
study,  or  master  the  subject, — in  a weak  way,  if  his  chin 
be  in  advance  (see  the  man  sitting  on  the  table  in  Fig.  29, 
page  63),  and  in  a strong  way  if  his  brow  be  in  advance 
(Fig.  106,  page  174).  But  if  his  facial  muscles  indicate  un- 
pleasant excitation,  the  position  represents,  if  the  chin  be 
in  advance,  force  prepared  to  resist  opposing  conditions, 
which,  as  the  eyes  are  looking  downward,  the  man  feels 
that  he  might  master,  and  for  tole- 
rating which,  therefore,  he  feels 
accountable.  Notice  the  uneasy 
but  ambitious  face  in  Fig.  107, 
page  174.  But  if  the  brow  be  in 
advance,  this  indictes  a mental 
apprehension  of  opposition  and 
difficulty  without  force  for  physical 
resistance.  In  this  case  the  sub- 
jects may  be  conceived  in  many 
different  ways,  as  deeply  sorrowful 
(Fig.  108,  page  174),  as  deeply  per- 
plexing(Fig.  109,  page  175),  as  frightful  (Fig.  129,  page  186), 
or  as  dangerous  (Fig.  126,  page  184).  The  leaning  of  the 
head  sideward  as  well  as  forward,  with  the  eyes  downward, 
indicates  a sympathetic  bias.  But  whether  this  bias  be  in 
favor  of  a man  or  against  him — especially  as  the  eyes  are 
not  always  visible — must  be  made  out  from  the  facial  ex- 
pression. Thus  the  face  of  the  J ohn,  in  Fig.  92,  page  1 50, 
indicates  love  exercised  toward  Peter  ; but  with  reference 
to  a subject  conceived  to  be  below  sight,  conception,  or 
control,  and  therefore  capable  of  being  understood  and 
mastered,  if  necessary.  The  leaning  of  the  head  of  the 


FIQ.  105.— CONFIDENCE. 
See  page  172. 


1J4  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE . 


woman  in  Fig.  80,  page  139,  expresses  confidence  in  the 
Christ,  together  with  a consciousness  of  shame  in  view  of 
conduct  which,  as  it  was  under  her  control,  she  might 
have  avoided. 

If,  with  the  head  still  thrust  forward,  the  eyes  look  up- 
ward, one  conceives  of  the  subject  of  thought  as  socially, 
intellectually,  or  morally  above  his  sight,  conception,  or 
control.  The  position  in  connection  with  a calm,  11011- 
excited  expression  of  countenance  indicates,  if  the  chin 
be  in  advance,  submission,  with  reference  mainly  to  vital 
conditions,  as  in  Fig.  82,  page  143  ; if  the  brow  be  forward, 


mental  submission,  as  in  Fig.  no,  page  175  ; also  in  the 
kneeling  forms  in  Fig.  35,  page  72.  The  same  position,  in 
connection  with  an  excited  expression  of  countenance,  in- 
dicates enforced  submission,  causing,  if  the  chin  be  in  ad- 
vance, either  an  effect  of  weak  mentality,  as  in  F ig.  100, 
page  167,  or  decided  physical  apprehension,  as  in  Fig.  21, 
page  49,  or  that  form  of  this  in  Fig.  1 19,  page  179,  and 
mental  apprehension  if  the  forehead  be  in  advance,  as  in 
Fig.  128,  pagei86.  As  in  all  cases  in  which  the  head  leans 
to  one  side,  the  chin  or  forehead  projected  in  the  same 
direction  as  an  upward  side  glance  of  the  eye,  suggests  an 


FIG.  106.— GALILEO. 
See  page  173. 


FIG.  107. -AMBITION.  FIG.  108.-  HOPELESSNESS. 
Seepages  173,  186.  Seepages  173,  186. 


REPRESEN  TA  TION  THRO  UGH  HEA  D A ND  FA  CE.  1 7 5 


influence,  physical  or  mental,  exerted  by  others.  Notice 
again  Fig.  no,  page  175,  and  Fig.  128,  page  186. 

Now  let  us  consider  the  significance 
of  the  head  and  eyes  when  the  former 
is  drawn  backzuard  or,  if  sideward, 
away  from  the  object  of  contemp- 
lation. This  action,  in  accordance 
with  what  was  said  on  page  129,  is 
mental  and  reflective.  If,  when  it  is 
made,  the  eyes  gaze  forward , then, 
in  case  the  chin  be  in  advance,  mere 
mentality  is  subordinated  to  physical 
considerations  (see  Fig.  27,  page  61), 
sometimes  merely  because  abstract 
thought  is  waived  in  view  of  that 
which,  on  the  physical  plane,  for  the 
time  being,  excites  interest  (Figs.  101,  page  169,  also  III, 
page  176),  surprises  or  puzzles  (Fig.  112,  page  176),  or,  if 

the  countenance  be  distorted, 
horrifies  (Fig.  113,  page  176), 
or  arouses  to  intensified  rage 
(Fig.  122,  page  181).  Because 
of  the  reflection  suggested  in 
this  last  face,  however,  the  men- 
ace given  is  less  forcible  than 
when  the  head  is  thrust  for- 
ward as  in  Fig.  73,  page  132. 
According  to  what  has  been  said 
before,  the  leaning  of  the  head 
to  one  side,  in  connection  with 
this  same  movement,  introduces 
a stronger  suggestion  of  the  presence  of  persons  in  con- 
nection with  the  presentation  of  the  subject  that  is  being 


FIG.  1 10.  — RELIGIOUS  RAPTURE. 
See  pages  174,  175,  179. 


176  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


considered.  When  the  chin  points  in  the  same  direction 
as  the  eye,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  when  the  forehead 
leans  away  from  the  person  toward  whom  one  is  looking, 
this  indicates  that  thought  is  with- 
held from  accord  with  that  of  this 
person  on  account,  perhaps,  of  pride, 
as  in  Fig.  114,  page  177,  or  of  slight 
suspicion,  Fig.  Ill,  page  176,  or  of 
stubbornness,  as  in  Fig.  1 1 2 , page 
176,  or  of  more  malevolent  feelings, 
as  in  Figs.  50,  page  99,  and  122, 
page  18 1.  If  with  the  head  held  back 
and  the  eyes  gazing  forward,  the 
brow  be  in  advance,  there  is  more 
emphatic  evidence  of  the  influence  of 
thought.  Nor  does  the  man  conceive  either  of  himself 
or  of  the  opinion  which  he  happens  at  the  time  to  hold, 
as  subordinate  to  any  other,  although,  in  the  degree  in 


FIG.  Ill— UNCONFIDINQ 
ATTENTION. 

See  pages  175,  176 


FIG.  112.— UNCONVINCED  ATTENTION.  FIG.  1 13.  — DESPAIR. 

See  pages  167,  169,  175, 176,  178,  185.  See  pages  175,  185. 


which  the  eyes  gaze  directly  at  those  in  front,  or  at  one 
side,  they  indicate  that  this  opinion  is  held  by  persons 
in  some  regards  on  a social,  intellectual,  or  moral  level 


REPRESENTA  TIOJV  THRO UC IT  HEAD  AND  FACE.  1 77 


with  himself  (Fig.  63,  page  1 16).  The  same  attitude  might 
indicate,  if  accompanied  by  a knit  brow,  a hostile  mood 
(Fig.  1 1 5,  page  177),  possibly  only  a suspicious  mood 


FIQ.  114. 

UNCONFIDINQ  PRIDE. 

See  pages  167,  176. 


See  pages  177,  185. 


FIG.  116. 

SATISFIED  CONFIDENCE. 
See  page  177. 


(Fig.  103,  page  1 7 1 ),  or,  if  accompanied  by  a sneer,  an 
egotistic  or  contemptuous  mood  (see  the  man  at  the  right 
in  Fig.  29,  page  63),  or,  if  accompanied  by  a troubled 
look,  an  aggrieved  or  affrighted 
mood,  as  in  those  at  the  left  of 
Ananias  in  Fig.  39,  page  79. 

If,  while  the  head  is  held  back, 
the  eyes  with  a satisfied  look  be 
directed  to  one  side  to  a person 
toward  whom  the  forehead  leans, 
this  indicates  that  thought  has  a 
leaning  toward  that  person.  It 
represents  confidence,  especially  in 
his  judgment  (Fig.  116,  page  177), 
and,  as  the  head  is  held  back,  men- 
tal assurance  that  the  confidence 

is  not  misplaced.  If,  however,  the  eyes  have  a frightened 
look,  this  position  may  represent  the  extreme  of  fear 


FIG.  117.— IMPUDENCE. 
See  pages  167,  178. 


178  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

in  view  of  that  to  which  mentality  finds  itself  obliged  to 
surrender.  (Fig.  132,  page  188). 

If  with  the  head  held  back  the  eyes  gaze  downward , 
and  the  chin  be  in  advance,  the  man  has  waived  the  ex- 
penditure of  thought  upon  a subject  because  he  conceives 
of  it  as  sociably,  intellectually,  or  morally  below  the  level 
of  his  sight,  comprehension,  or  control. 

The  position  when  very  emphatic  indicates  dissent 
together  with  unwillingness  to  weigh  evidence  (Fig.  112, 

page  176)  ; also,  to  one  looking 
backward  too,  haughtiness,  su- 
perciliousness, impudence  (Fig. 
1 17,  page  177),  and,  in  a hos- 
tile countenance,  contemptuous 
rage  (Fig.  122,  page  1 8 1).  But 
if  the  brow  be  in  advance,  it 
indicates  that,  while  the  man 
still  conceives  himself  to  be 
master  of  the  subject,  he  is  will- 
ing to  expend  his  mental  ener- 
gies upon  it.  Notice  the  sug- 
gestion of  moral  superiority, 
though  connected  with  an  ap- 
peal to  reason,  in  the  man  mak- 
See  pages  179,  187.  . , - 

mg  the  upward  finger  gesture 

in  Fig.  39,  page  79 ; also  the  suggestion  of  intellectual 
superiority  in  the  man,  who  is  nevertheless  paying  at- 
tention, at  the  right  in  Fig.  29,  page  63  ; and,  once  more, 
the  malicious  confidence  in  the  results  of  his  own  plots 
manifested  in  the  hostile  countenance  in  Fig.  50,  page 
99. 

If,  with  the  head  held  back  and  not  inclining  to  either 
side,  the  eyes  gaze  upward , the  man  conceives  of  the 


REPRESENTA  TION  THROUGH  HEAD  AND  FACE.  I 79 


source  of  subordination  as  something  above  his  sight,  com- 
prehension, or  control.  If  then  his  chin  be  in  advance, 
the  position  indicates,  according  to  the  expression  of  the 
other  features,  that  his  own  mental  comprehension  or 
control  is  waived  on  account  either  of  faith  in  a higher 
power  (Fig.  118,  page  178),  or  fear  of  it  (Fig.  1 19,  page 
179).  If  then  the  face  also  lean  to  one  side,  as  it  does  to 
an  extent  in  Fig.  1 18,  with  the  eyes  looking  upward  in  the 
same  direction,  this  may  indicate  indifference  to  lower  or 
worldly  subjects  or  persons  on  account  of  enthusiastic 


recognition  of  help  from  a source  higher  than  ordinarily 
comes  to  men,  giving  an  expression  of  religious  rapture  as 
in  Fig.  1 10,  page  175  ; or,  aided  by  emphasis  of  chin  and 
lower  lip,  of  irreligious  triumph,  as  in  Fig.  120,  page  179. 

The  head  held  back,  with  the  eyes  upward  and  the  brow 
in  advance,  is  an  almost  impossible  position  ; but  there  is 
a suggestion  of  it  in  Fig.  63,  page  1 16,  and  Fig.  121,  page 
1 8 1 . In  both  cases  it  joins  to  the  conception  of  higher 
control,  the  feeling  that  this  is  acting  through  the  man’s 
own  mentality.  Napoleon  is  the  “ man  of  destiny  ” ; and 
Fig.  12 1 hints  of  one  conscious  that  he  himself  has  been 


FIQ.  119.— apprehensive:  astonishment. 
See  pages  174,  179,  185. 


FIQ.  120.— TRIUMPH. 
See  page  179. 


I So  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


a co-worker  with  fate  in  producing  the  trouble  which  has 
overtaken  him. 

The  head  held  in  its  normal  position,  neither  thrust 
forward  nor  drawn  backward,  representing,  as  it  does,  no 
bias  in  the  direction  either  of  vital  energy  or  of  mental  suf- 
ficiency, shows  supremacy  of  the  motive,  higher  emotive, 
or  moral  nature.  In  these  circumstances,  there  is  some- 
times more  opportunity  for  emphasizing  the  distinctively 
emotional  representations  of  the  sideward  movements  of 
the  head.  Its  inclination  alternately  to  one  side  and 
then  to  the  other,  indicates  a balancing  between  ten- 
dencies for  or  against  a person  or  project,  therefore  uncer- 
tainty ; if  persistently  made,  then  settled  uncertainty  or 
indifference  ; if  flippantly  made,  then  impotence  in  view  of 
that  to  which  one  is  indifferent  or  of  things  conceived  to 
be  trivial.  A rotary  movement  of  the  head  held  in  any 
position,  seems  to  have  the  effect  of  shaking  off  influ- 
ence, or  like  the  closing  gesture,  of  closing  the  channels 
of  communication  between  the  one  who  makes  it  and 
others.  It  signifies,  if  the  eyes  look  toward  the  person  to 
whom  it  is  made,  negation,  rejection  ; and  if  the  eyes  and 
face  be  turned  away  from  him,  it  includes,  with  these,  the 
idea  of  distrust. 

Owing  to  the  difficulty,  in  certain  cases,  of  distinguish- 
ing from  one  another  a forward,  a backward,  and  a normal 
position  of  the  head  considered  as  a whole,  similar  impres- 
sions are  sometimes  conveyed  by  each  of  them.  For  this 
reason,  there  have  been  some  necessary  repetitions  in  these 
explanations.  But  it  is  hoped  that  they  have  been  made 
as  few  as  possible. 

Now  let  us  consider  the  operation  of  the  muscles  that 
control  the  expression  of  the  countenance.  Their  actions 
may  be  best  interpreted,  as  intimated  on  page  149,  by 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION  THR  O UGH  HE  A D A ND  FACE.  I S I 


comparing  them  with  those  produced  by  the  hand-gestures. 
These,  as  made  with  the  fist,  the  finger,  and  the  palm 
turned  away  from  the  gesturer  or  towards  him,  all  have 
correspondences  in  the  adjustments  of  the  muscles  of  the 
face,  and  have  also  corresponding  meanings.  It  is  possi- 
ble, for  instance,  by  a rigid  action  of  the  muscles,  to  make 
the  whole  face  produce  the  physical  suggestions  of  a fist 
(see  Fig.  51,  page  99).  Recalling  that  the  gestures  of 
the  mouth  are  more  particularly  vital  ; those  of  the  eye, 
mental ; and  those  of  the  nostrils,  emotive ; there  certainly 


can  be  no  doubt  of  the  physical  menace  imparted  by  the 
firm-set  teeth,  and  the  lowering  and  knit  eyebrows. 
These  are  sometimes  accompanied  by  an  opening  mouth 
(Fig.  121,  page  1 8 1 ),  and  sometimes  by  rigidly  swelling 
nostrils  (Fig.  122,  page  181),  both  serving  to  give  greater 
breadth  of  effect.  They  seem  to  give  this  because,  while 
the  physical  and  mental  natures  are  gathering,  and,  as  it 
were,  girding  their  powers  for  the  conflict,  the  emotive 
nature  is  still  wide  open  to  the  influences  from  without, 
and  drawing  into  the  soul  every  draft  of  insult  like  the 


FIG.  121. -RAGE  AND  FEAR. 

Seepages  179,  181,  184, 
186,  189. 


FIG.  122.— CONTEMPTUOUS  RAGE. 
See  pages  175,  176,  178,181, 
182,  183,  186,  189. 


I 82  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

breath  on  which  it  is  freighted,  to  help  fan  the  flame  of 
indignation. 

It  is  possible,  again,  to  give  to  the  face  the  more  subtly 
mental  effect  of  a finger  gesture.  Notice  the  puckering  of 
the  lips,  as  if  pointing  to  an  object,  when  one  is  uttering  the 
expression,  “ whew  ! ” and  the  vertical  wrinkling  of  the  fore- 
head between  the  eyebrows,  together  with  the  contracting 
of  the  nose,  when  thought  is  concentrated,  in  order  to  point, 

as  it  were,  to  some  single  ob- 
ject of  consideration  (Figs. 
123,  page  182;  64,  page  1 17). 

Once  more,  as  when 
using  the  hands,  it  is  pos- 
sible, either  with  or  with- 
out the  aid  of  the  facial 
movements  just  mention- 
ed, to  produce  motive  or 
emotive  effects  correspond- 
ing to  those  represented 
by  what  has  been  termed 
the  closing  gesture,  made 
with  the  palm  turned  away 
from  the  gesturer,  as  also 
fig.  123.— reflection.  by  what  has  been  termed 

Upper  Part  of  Orbicularis  Palpebrarum  Muscle. 

Seepages  182,  184,  185,  186,  rSS.  the  °Pemng  gesture,  made 

with  the  palm  not  turned 
thus.  There  is  no  doubt,  for  instance,  that  the  emphatic 
closing  of  the  mouth,  which  is  the  organ  of  speech  repre- 
senting the  most  physical  or  material  effects  of  thought, 
indicates  a closing  of  the  channels  of  influence  (see  Figs. 
122,  page  1 8 1 , 123,  page  182,  and  51,  page  99).  It  means 
that  the  man  does  not  propose  to  let  his  opinions,  his  mo- 
tives, or  his  emotive  condition  be  easily  changed  by  any 


REPRESENTA  TION  THRO  UGH  HEAD  AND  FA  CE.  I 83 

consideration  presented  from  without.  Nor  is  it  uppermost 
in  his  mind  to  endeavor  to  change  these  conditions  in 
others.  He  is  simply  emphasizing,  in  a determined  way, 
his  own  mood  and  impressions.  When  the  mouth  is  not 
only  closed,  but  drawn  down  at  the  sides,  then  it  indicates 
rejection  and  displeasure,  a more  decided  closing  of  the 
channels  of  sympathy  (Figs.  124,  page  183,  and  122,  page 
1 8 1 ).  Combined  with  more 
contraction  of  the  muscles, 
it  indicates  still  more  dis- 
pleasure, or  discontent, 
and  like  the  doubling  up 
of  the  fist,  as  has  been  said, 
a determination  to  change 
physical  conditions  (Fig. 

51,  page  99).  The  open- 
ing of  the  mouth,  on  the 
contrary,  indicates  the 
opening  of  the  channel  of 
influence,  and,  therefore, 
that  a man  is  ready  both 
to  receive  and  to  impart 
(see  Figs.  125,  page  184, 
to  129,  page  186).  If  the 
lips  expand  also  at  the 
sides,  as  in  the  smile,  they 
indicate  an  opening  of  the  channels  of  influence  to  that 
which  is  pleasant  and  welcome  in  one’s  surroundings 
(Figs.  127,  page  185,  and  52,  page  100).  But  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  sides  are  drawn  together  and,  as 
usually  in  such  cases,  downward,  they  indicate  that  which 
is  conceived  to  be  grave  and  serious  (Fig.  126,  page  184), 
if  not  scornful  (Fig.  124,  page  183)  and  threatening  (Fig. 


FIQ.  124— CONTEMPT  AND  DISCONTENT. 
Triangular  Muscle  of  the  Lips. 

See  pages  121,  183,  185,  188. 


1 84  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

51,  page  99).  When  not  only  the  lips,  but  the  whole 
mouth  is  slightly  open,  this  indicates  great  interest  either 
as  applied  to  what  is  pleasing  (Figs.  125,  page  184,  127, 
page  185,  and  52,  page  100)  or  alarming  (Figs.  126,  page 
184,  128,  page  186,  129,  page  186).  Notice  also  the  alarm 
combined  with  rage  in  Fig.  121,  page  181.  Thus  the 
opening  mouth  seems  to  indicate  that  the  man  is  drinking 
in  whatever  is  seen  or  heard.  When,  in  addition  to  this, 
the  lips  seem  brought  forward,  as  when  uttering  “ whew  ! ” 


which  is  usually  accompanied  by  that  wrinkling  of  the  fore- 
head between  the  eyebrows  noticed  in  Fig.  123,  page  182, 
thought  is  pointing,  as  has  just  been  intimated,  to  what 
excites  wonder  and  amazement.  Add  to  this  a rigid 
effect  of  the  muscles,  but  without  that  closing  of  the 
mouth  which  indicates  a purpose  and  power  to  resist  the 
influence  from  without,  and,  if  the  lips  be  opened  mainly 
at  their  centres,  we  have  so  far  as  the  mouth  alone  can 
indicate  it,  apprehension  (Fig.  126,  page  184);  if  they  be 
drawn  downward  at  the  sides,  we  have  crying  (Fig.  128, 


FIG.  125.— CURIOSITY. 
See  pages  183.  184,  187, 


FIG.  126.— APPREHENSIVE  GRIEF. 

See  pages  173,  183,  184. 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION  THR  O UGH  HEAD  A ND  FACE.  1 8 5 

page  186);  if  accompanied  by  a contraction  of  the  sides, 
we  have  despair  or  terror  (Figs.  1 13,  page  176;  129,  page 
186;  132,  page  188);  and  if  they  be  opened  at  both  the 
centres  and  sides,  as  if  physical  will-power  in  the  lips  were 
paralyzed,  we  have  horror  or  the  like  (Figs.  133,  page  1 88  ; 
1 19,  page  179). 

Turning  now  to  the  parts  of  the  face  less  closely  con- 
nected with  the  material  manifestations  of  thought  in 
speech,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  bringing  the 
eyebrows  nearer  together 
as  in  Figs.  123,  page  182; 

124,  page  183;  127,  page 
185  ; and  131,  page  187, 
indicates  like  the  finger 
gesture  a concentration  of 
thought  upon  some  par- 
ticular subject  or  person. 

It  is  equally  clear  that  the 
lowering  of  the  eyebrows, 
as  in  Fig.  123,  page  182, 
and  1 12,  page  176,  indi- 
cates, like  the  closing  ges- 
ture, a closing  of  the  chan- 
nel of  influence.  The  man 
does  not  intend  to  receive 
or  accept  what  he  hears  without  serious  question  ; and, 
possibly,  he  deliberately  intends  to  reject  and  oppose  it, 
as  in  Figs.  51,  page  99,  and  1 1 5 , page  177.  When  the 
brows  are  both  knit  together  and  lowered,  they  may,  in 
connection  with  swelling  nostrils  and  compressed  lips, 
produce,  as  has  been  said,  the  effect  of  the  fist  gesture, 
as  in  Fig.  51,  page  99.  The  lifting  of  the  eyebrows, 


Fia  127.— LAUGHTER  AND  GAYETY. 
Great  Zygomatic  Muscles. 

See  pages  121,  183,  184,  185,  187. 


lS6  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

which  lias  the  effect  of  opening  the  space  about  the  eyes, 
always,  like  the  opening  gesture,  indicates  acceptance  or 
communication,  sometimes  willing,  as  in  the  expression 
of  surprise  (Fig.  130,  page  187);  and  sometimes  unwill- 
ing, as  in  that  of  sorrowful  solicitude  (Fig.  1 31,  page  187), 
where  the  knit  brows  accompanying  the  opening  move- 
ment show  that  the  matter  demands  serious  concentration 
of  thought.  When,  in  connection  with  this,  the  muscles 
and  eyes  assume  a rigid,  staring  appearance,  as  if  exerting 
in  vain  all  effort  to  shut  out  the  impending  trouble,  we 
have  the  expressions  of  enforced  acceptance,  solicitude, 


and  hostility  combined  which  in  various  degrees  indicate 
fright,  horror,  rage,  and  fury,  as  in  Figs.  132,  page  188; 
133,  page  188;  121,  page  181  ; and  122,  page  181. 

The  eyes,  considered  by  themselves,  also  have  corre- 
sponding effects.  Slightly  closed,  they  indicate  a critical 
mood,  which  is  unwilling  or,  at  least,  hesitates  either  to 
receive  or  to  impart  (Figs.  102,  page  1 7 1 ; 107,  page  174; 
123,  page  182).  Wholly  closed,  as  in  contrition  and  grief, 
they  denote  a positive  wish  to  do  neither  (Fig.  80,  page  1 39  ; 


FIG.  128.— DISAPPOINTED  DESIRE. 
See  pages  174,  175,  179,  183,  184. 


FIG.  129.— TERROR. 

See  pages  173,  183,  184,  185,  188. 


REPRESENTATION  THROUGH  HEAD  AND  FACE.  I 87 


Fig.  108,  page  174).  In  their  normal  open  condition,  with 
the  lids  slightly  falling  and  the  brows  unwrinkled,  they 
indicate  an  open  mind  (Fig.  59,  page  109).  Expanded 
slightly  by  wrinkles  at  the  sides  and  underneath,  they 
indicate  a welcome  to  that  which  is  pleasant  in  the  sur- 
roundings (Fig.  127,  page  185).  Expanded  slightly  up- 
ward, with  the  lids  and  brows  both  lifting,  they  indicate 


FIG.  130. 

ATTENTION  AND  ASTONISHMENT  : 

TRACTION  OF  FRONTAL  MUSCLES. 


FIG.  131. 

SORROW  : Superciliary  Muscle. 


See  pages  186,  187. 


See  pages  185,  186,  188. 


a welcome,  either  free  or  enforced,  to  that  which  is  im- 
portant, the  vertical  direction  here  as  elsewhere  being  the 
motive  or  moral  one  (Figs.  104,  page  172  ; 118,  page  178  ; 
125,  page  184).  When  this  expansion  becomes  more 
marked  above  the  eyebrows,  and  the  muscles  causing  it 
become  more  rigid,  expectancy,  surprise,  amazement  be- 
gin to  be  expressed  (Fig.  130,  page  187).  In  the  last  effect 


I 88  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


there  begins  to  be  much  wrinkling  of  the  forehead  above 
the  eyes.  When,  in  addition  to  this,  there  comes  to  be 
a contraction  of  the  forehead,  bringing  the  brows  nearer 
together,  the  idea  of  concentrating  thought  upon  the  cause 
of  amazement,  which  is  now  considered  serious,  is  intro- 
duced, and  we  have  fright  (Fig.  132,  page  188,  or  horror, 
Fig-  133,  page  188).  When  there  is  added  to  the  opening 
effect  the  lowering  of  the  brows  at  the  temples,  there 
comes  to  be  a suggestion  of  solicitude,  as  already  ex- 
plained (Fig.  13 1,  page  187).  When  there  is  an  opening, 


a contracting,  and  a lowering  effect,  all  three  together, 
then  there  is  evidence  of  fright  combined  with  prolonged 
solicitude — that  is,  of  terror  (Fig.  129,  page  186). 

The  drawing  down  of  the  muscles  about  the  nostrils  is 
necessarily  connected  with  the  effect  which  is  called  the 
“ drawing  up  ” of  the  nose.  Like  the  finger-gesture,  it 
always  points,  sometimes  merely  in  an  interested  way,  as 
in  Fig.  123,  page  182  ; but  sometimes  in  a hostile  stigma- 
tizing way,  as  in  Fig.  124,  page  183.  In  the  latter  case  it 


FIG.  132.— FEAR. 

See  pages  178,  185,  186,  188. 


FIG.  133.— ASTONISHED  HORROR. 

See  pages  185,  186,  188. 


REPRESENTA  TION  THRO  UGH  HEAD  AND  FA  CE.  I 89 

indicates  the  emotive  phase  of  rejection,  i.  e.,  disdain  ; 
and  is  used  with  the  closing  movements  of  the  mouth  and 
eyes,  already  described,  only  when  disdain  is  expressed 
in  addition  to  what  they  express.  The  rigidity  of  the 
movement  puts  force  into  it  (Fig.  51,  page  99)  ; and  the 
expanding  of  the  nostrils,  while  it  takes  from  the  effect 
of  pointing,  increases  the  effect  of  largeness  and  import- 
ance (Fig.  122,  page  181).  The  open  nostril  means  an 
open  soul,  and  if  rigidly  opened  it  indicates,  as  was  inti- 
mated when  speaking  of  it  as  used  in  connection  with  the 
firm-set  teeth,  passion  and  rage  (Fig.  121,  page  181). 

The  reader  may  now  be  interested  in  noticing  how 
these  various  conclusions  have  been  epitomized  into 
lines  representative  of  the  directions  assumed  by  the  dif- 
ferent features  of  the  face  when  giving  expression  to  cer- 
tain typical  sentiments.  Here  are  the  three  principal 
figures  used  by  the  Dutch  Humbert  de  Superville  in  his 
well  known  work  on  the  “ Signes  Inconditionnels  de 
l’Art.” 


FIG.  134.— CALMNESS.  FIG.  135.—  QAYETY.  FIG-  136.— SADNESS. 

Three  Diagrams  of  Humbert  de  Superville. 


And  on  the  next  page  are  similar  figures,  taken  from 
Duval’s  “Artistic  Anatomy.” 

Any  movement,  merely  playful,  that  increases  the  ap- 
parent size  of  any  of  the  features,  like  the  pouting  of  the 


FIQ.  137.— REFLECTION. 


FIG.  138.— LAUGHTER. 


REPRESEN  TA  TIOH  THROUGH  THE  FACE  AMD  HEAD.  19I 

lips,  the  staring  of  the  eyes,  or  the  swelling  of  the  cheeks 
or  nostrils,  merely  caricatures  the  effects,  vital,  mental,  or 
emotive,  that  would  be  produced  by  these  features  if 
really  as  large  as  represented.  In  the  countenance,  as 
elsewhere,  comic  effects  are  produced,  too,  by  a combina- 
tion of  extravagance  and  incongruity  ; the  latter,  for  ex- 
ample, by  having  one  part  of  the  face  represent  one  set 
of  emotions,  and  another  part  another  set,  or  by  having 
the  whole  countenance  represent  emotions  diametrically 
the  opposite  of  those  that  the  circumstances  warrant. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR. 


Correspondence  between  the  Effects  of  Tone  in  Sounds  and  of  Color  in 
Scenes — Mental  Effects  of  Different  Degrees  of  Light — Instinctive,  Re- 
flective, and  Emotive  Effects — Effects  of  Pitch  and  Quality  in  Color,  as 
in  Sound,  very  Closely  Allied — Representative  Effects  of  Different 
Qualities  of  Tone — Their  Correspondences  in  Colors — Cold  Colors  and 
Normal  or  Pure  Tones  as  Instinctive — Warm  Colors  and  Orotund  Tones 
as  Reflective — Varied  Colors  as  Emotive — Confirmation  of  these  Corre- 
spondences from  Facts  of  Experience — From  the  Use  of  Color  in  Paint- 
ing— Especially  the  Human  Countenance — In  Sculpture — In  Architec- 
ture— Representation  of  Natural  Effects  of  Distance  through  Cold  and 
Warm  Colors  in  Painting — In  Architecture — Correspondence  between 
the  Effects  of  Mixed  Tones  and  Colors — Representative  Influence  of 
Black — With  Cold  Colors — With  Warm  Colors — Of  White  with  Cold 
Colors — With  Warm  Colors — Further  Illustrations — Conclusion. 

| N certain  circumstances,  which  need  not  now  be  ex- 
plained, color  gives  to  paintings  and  to  both  the  ex- 
teriors and  interiors  of  buildings  an  effect  which,  in 
popular  parlance,  is  termed  tone.  The  fact  that  this  term 
is  used  at  all,  indicates  how  wide  is  the  recognition  of  at 
least  some  correspondence  between  that  to  which  it  ap- 
plies and  an  effect  produced  by  the  pitch  and  quality  of 
sounds  to  which  alone  it  was  applied  primarily.  This 
recognition,  mainly,  has  suggested  the  present  chapter. 

We  can  best  come  to  understand  the  significance  of 
elements  of  expression  by  considering  their  significance 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR. 


193 


in  extreme  cases.  Color  is  a condition  attributable  to 
light.  Let  us  begin  by  asking  what  is  represented  by 
different  degrees  of  light  ; and,  first,  by  its  absence. 
Where  there  is  no  light,  the  mind  may  nevertheless  be  in- 
fluenced by  sounds;  and  these,  of  course,  may  cause  us 
to  imagine  sights  ; but  imagined  sights  are  not  those  that 
we  are  now  considering.  So  far  as  concerns  possible 
scenes,  when  these  are  not  perceived  by  us,  they  cannot, 
as  scenes,  exert  any  influence.  Our  thoughts  are  as  little 
aroused  to  effort  by  them  as  are  our  bodies  to  activity, 
when  compelled  to  grope  their  way  in  darkness.  When 
there  comes  to  be  a little  light,  however,  we  can  see  forms 
but  not  colors,  or  these  only  as  they  seem  to  be  very  dim 
and  dark.  In  this  condition  the  mind  is  not  greatly  in- 
terested in  objects  nor  aroused  to  thought  by  them.  For 
now  it  sees  too  few  of  them,  and  the  few  that  it  does  see, 
it  sees  too  indistinctly.  But  let  the  light  increase,  and  in 
the  degree  in  which  it  does  so  outlines  become  more 
marked  and  colors  more  bright  ; while  the  mind  perceiv- 
ing a larger  number  and  variety  of  objects  comes  to  have 
a larger  number  and  variety  of  definite  thoughts  concern- 
ing them. 

These  self-evident  facts  will  enable  us  to  analyze  the 
effects  of  color  in  accordance  with  the  principles  unfolded 
on  page  19.  It  will  be  noticed  that,  from  what  has 
just  been  said,  the  deduction  is  inevitable  that  the 
mind’s  study  of  objects  and  understanding  of  them  are 
necessarily  increased  with  the  increase  of  light.  Indeed,  it 
is  possible  to  conceive  that  this  alone  might  cause  all  the 
difference  between  what  might  be  termed  the  instinctive , 
because  indiscriminative,  views  of  life  possessed  by  an 
animal  and  the  discriminative  or  reflective  results  of 
human  intelligence.  But  far  more  important,  as  related 


1 94  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

to  this  subject  of  color,  than  are  any  instinctive  or  reflec- 
tive tendencies  represented  by  these  extremes  of  differ- 
ence, is  the  emotive  tendency  represented  by  the  dif- 
ferent degrees  between  these  extremes,  where  both  exist 
in  combination.  When  the  light  is  slight,  the  thought 
awakened  by  objects  is  not  only,  as  a rule,  slight  in  quan- 
tity, but  what  there  is  of  it  is  not  usually  pleasant  in 
quality.  The  doubtful  delineation  of  the  outlines  is  apt 
to  perplex  and  annoy  the  mind,  if  not,  as  is  sometimes 
the  case,  to  alarm  it  by  a sense  of  insecurity.  This  is  to 
say  that  the  appearances  of  nature,  when,  owing  to  cir- 
cumstances, they  seem  robed  either  in  no  distinguishable 
colors  or  in  very  dark  ones,  are  not,  as  a rul satisfactory , 
interesting , cheering,  or  inspiring ; but  that  sometimes  they 
cause  depression  and  even  solicitude.  With  more  light, 
however,  the  outlines  and  colors  become  more  visible, 
bright  and  varied,  and  not  only  the  satisfaction  but  the 
excitation  derivable  from  them  is  increased.  These  effects 
continue  to  be  enhanced  up  to  the  time,  if  it  ever  arrive, 
when  the  colors  are  no  longer  distinguishable,  because 
the  light  has  become  too  dazzling.  But  at  this  point  the 
disagreeableness  of  the  effect  is  produced,  not  because 
attention  is  aroused  too  slightly,  but  too  greatly,  as,  for 
instance,  by  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun  or  by  a flash  of 
lightning.  In  all  cases,  however,  even  in  these  latter  two, 
notice  the  additional  excitation  to  the  emotions  produced 
by  variety.  Sunlight  or  lightning  is  never  so  vivid  as 
when  made  to  contrast  sharply  with  absolute  darkness, 
as  in  a cave  or  a cloud.  Nor  is  a bright  red  or  yellow 
ever  so  effective  as  when  placed  directly  against  a dull 
blue-green  or  indigo.  We  may  say,  therefore,  that,  as 
a rule,  dark  colors  or  shades  of  them  which  result  when 
the  colors,  as  determined  by  the  spectrum,  are  dimly 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OP  COLOR.  1 95 

illumined,  as  also  unvarying  colors,  are  less  exciting  to 
the  emotions  than  are  bright  and  varied  ones. 

Before  illustrating  these  statements  by  referring  to  the 
actual  use  of  colors  in  nature  and  in  art,  let  us  look  at  the 
general  subject  from  another  point  of  view.  A considera- 
tion of  the  amount  of  light  illumining  a color  cannot  well 
be  separated  from  a consideration  of  the  character  and 
mixture  of  the  light  constituting  the  color.  Indeed,  as 
shown  in  Chapters  XII.  to  XV.  of  the  essay  on  “ Rhythm 
and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music,”  the  same  statement 
might  be  made  with  reference  to  the  consideration  of  pitch 
and  of  quality  in  sound  to  which  these  two  effects  in  sight 
are  analogous.  Just  as  the  quality  of  sound  is  determined 
by  the  pitch  of  the  different  partial  tones  of  which  a note 
is  compounded,  so  the  quality  of  a color  is  determined 
by  the  hues  which  result  from  the  different  partial 
effects  of  light  of  which  the  rays  producing  it  are  com- 
pounded. For  instance,  when,  in  a screen  shutting  out 
the  light  from  a darkened  room,  we  make  a narrow  slit, 
and  through  this  allow  the  light  to  enter,  and  receiving 
this  light  on  a prism  separate  one  ray  of  the  light  into 
various  partial  rays  of  the  same,  all  the  colors  of  the  spec- 
trum will  appear  on  a white  wall  opposite  the  window. 
But  the  red  color  will  appear  nearest  the  place  on  which 
the  white  light  would  have  fallen,  had  we  used  no  prism, 
and,  farther  and  farther  from  this  place,  will  appear 
respectively,  in  this  order,  orange,  yellow,  green,  blue, 
and  purple.  For  this  reason,  the  first  three  of  these  col- 
ors are  supposed  to  be  most  nearly  allied  to  light  as 
well  as,  according  to  some,  to  the  fire  and  heat  which  we 
naturally  associate  with  the  sources  of  light.  Red,  orange, 
and  yellow,  and  their  allied  colors,  are  therefore  termed 
bright  or  warm  ; and  green,  blue,  and  purple,  dark  or  cold. 


196  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE . 


The  very  fact  of  the  use  of  these  terms  shows  the  close 
connection  between  the  influence  of  light  and  darkness 
upon  the  amount  of  color,  as  indicated  on  page  194,  and  its 
influence  upon  the  kind  of  color;  and  why,  therefore,  it  is 
better,  as  has  been  suggested,  to  consider  the  two  together. 

As  preparatory  to  doing  this  intelligently,  let  us  observe 
a few  more  analogies  between  the  effects  of  quality  in 
tone  and  in  color.  Quality  in  tone,  as  stated  in  Chapter  XI. 
of  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,”  as  also  in  Chapter 
VI.  of  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art,”  is  particularly 
expressive  of  the  feelings.  Of  the  different  kinds  of  quality 
that  known  as  the  pure  or  normal — the  tone  of  ordinary 
utterance — is  best  represented  by  the  short  vowels  in 
poetry,  and  by  the  flute  in  music.  The  orotund  tone — 
that  of  agreeably  exhilarated  utterance — is  best  repre- 
sented by  the  long  vowels  and  tonic  consonants  in  poetry 
and  by  the  horns  in  music.  The  aspirate  tone  or  whisper, 
indicative  of  secrecy  either  of  sympathy  or  alarm, — a tone 
used  generally  in  connection  with  other  tones  to  augment 
the  feeling  expressed  in  them — is  best  represented  by  the 
aspirate  consonants  in  poetry  and  by  the  violins  in  music. 
The  hollow  pectoral  tone  indicating  horror  is  best  repre- 
sented by  the  round  vowels  together  with  strongly  aspir- 
ated or  atonic  consonants  in  poetry,  and  by  the  larger  and 
lower  wind  instruments  in  music;  and  the  guttural  tone  in- 
dicating hostility  is  best  represented  by  the  consonants 
approaching  the  g-sounds  in  poetry  and  by  the  sharper 
metallic  sounds  in  connection  with  the  cymbals  and  drums 
in  music.  The  normal  and  orotund  tones  are  musical  and 
pure  ; the  aspirate,  in  itself  considered,  is  mainly  an  ab- 
sence of  tone  ; and  the  pectoral  and  guttural  are  unmusical 
and  impure  in  the  sense  of  being  mixed.  They  are  always 
very  largely  mixed,  too,  with  the  aspirate.  For  furthei 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR. 


1 97 


description  of  these  tones  see  “ The  Orator’s  Manual,”  pp. 
94-105. 

The  significance  represented  by  these  tones,  as  used 
in  elocution,  is  indisputable.  Reference  is  made  to  them 
here  for  the  purpose  not  merely  of  showing  the  unity  of 
method  in  different  parts  of  this  system,  but  also  for  the 
purpose  of  accomplishing  that  for  which  this  unity  of 
method  is  intended  to  be  serviceable.  In  this  place,  it  will 
serve  to  aid  us  in  determining  the  significance  of  pure  and 
of  mixed  colors.  The  correspondence  seems  exact  be- 
tween the  influence  of  normal  tone  and  of  the  cold  colors-; 
the  influence  of  the  orotund  tone  and  of  the  warm  colors ; 
the  influence  of  the  pleasurable  aspirate  and  of  white  ; 
and  the  influence  of  the  solicitous  aspirate  and  of  black. 
The  correspondence  is  less  exact,  but  still  sufficiently  so 
for  our  purpose,  between  the  pectoral  tone  and  the  cold 
colors  used  in  combination  with  black,  and  between  the 
guttural  tone  and  the  warm  colors  used  in  combination 
with  black. 

We  will  take  up,  first,  the  distinction  between  the  pure 
tone,  i.  e.,  between  the  distinctively  pure  or  normal  tone, 
and  the  orotund.  In  elocution,  the  former  is  not  neces- 
sarily a cultivated  tone,  but  the  latter,  the  orotund,  is. 
The  former  therefore  suggests  the  natural,  and  the  latter 
the  artistic.  Is  not  the  same  true  with  reference  to  the 
classes  of  color  to  which  these  have  been  said  to  corre- 
spond ? Just  as  the  normal  or  pure  tone  is  that  of  ordi- 
nary natural  intercourse,  are  not  the  cold  colors,  the 
greens,  blues  and  purples,  those  of  ordinary  natural  life  ? 
Is  it  not  true  that  for  nine-tenths  of  all  the  time,  nine- 
tenths  of  all  the  surfaces  of  the  globe, — i.  e.,  the  lakes,  skies, 
hills,  forests,  fields,  rocks,  distant  and  near, — are  robed  in 
these  colors  ? The  warmer  colors,  the  reds,  oranges,  and 


198  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

yellows,  appear  occasionally  in  nature  in  the  sunset  sky, 
the  autumn  foliage,  the  hues  of  flowers,  the  plumage  of 
birds,  and  the  coating  of  animals  ; but  it  is  remarkable 
how  seldom  they  appear  at  all,  how  little  surface,  com- 
paratively, they  cover  when  they  do  appear,  how  infre- 
quently they  appear  in  their  full  intensity,  and  how, 
universally,  when  they  do  appear  in  this,  they  are  con- 
sidered exceptional  and  worthy  of  remark.  They  certainly 
are  not  nature’s  normal  colors.  Man  cannot  dye  a'nything 
bluer  or  greener  than  he  can  often  see  in  the  sea  and  sky 
and  forest  ; but  nowhere  in  the  world  can  he  raise  a red 
or  orange  flag  that  will  not  instantly  be  recognized  as 
something  different  from  anything  in  nature,  and,  there- 
fore, as  something  that  is  signalling  the  presence  of  man. 
Hence  the  use  of  these  colors,  especially  of  red,  by  sur- 
veying parties,  and  on  railways,  piers,  and  battle-fields. 
Such  colors  are  the  ones  that  are  most  suggestive  of  human 
interference.  As  used  in  art,  therefore,  they  are  the 
colors  representing  the  condition  upon  which  the  thought 
of  the  artist  has  had  the  greatest  influence,  or,  according 
to  the  phraseology  that  we  have  been  using,  the  colors 
which  most  naturally  give  expression  to  the  mental  or 
reflective  tendencies.  The  colors  at  the  other  end  of  the 
spectrum,  the  greens,  blues,  purples,  being  less  suggestive 
that  the  elements  of  form  have  been  changed  from  the 
state  in  which  they  are  found  in  nature,  are,  of  course,  the 
ones  that  most  naturally  give  expression  to  the  physical 
or  instinctive  tendencies. 

With  these  facts,  however,  we  need  also  to  bear  in  mind 
that  which  is  a logical  inference  from  what  was  said  on 
page  194,  namely,  that  all  very  low  and  uniform  shades 
even  if  of  yellows,  oranges,  and  reds, — have  a quieting 
effect,  and  all  very  high  and — because  contrasts  emphasize 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR.  1 99 


one  another,  and  most  contrasts  of  cold  colors  are  warm  1 — 
all  contrasting  tints,  even  if  of  purples,  blues,  and  greens, 
have  an  exciting  effect.  To  compare  these  conditions 
again  with  those  of  pitch  in  elocution  and  music,  this,  if 
low  and  monotonous,  indicates  what  is  serious , grave , 
dignified,  and  self-controlled , and,  if  high  and  varied,  the 
opposite.  Does  it  require  an  argument  to  show  how  per- 
fectly these  analogies  are  carried  out  as  applied  to  colors? 
Do  we  not  all  recognize  the  more  exciting  and  exhilarating 
effects  of  these  when  full  of  brightness  and  contrast  ? Who 
has  not  noticed  the  difference  in  influence  between  a lawn 
and  a flower-bed  ? or  between  a room  decorated  with  ever- 
greens and  the  same  decorated  with  chrysanthemums? 
or  between  a uniformly  clouded  gray  sky,  and  a sky 
lighted  up  with  the  diversified  glories  of  the  sun- 
set? or  between  the  dulness  and  monotony  of  a 
business  street  when  the  shop-entrances  are  hung  with 
dingy  clothing  for  sale,  or  the  sidewalks  filled  with  peo- 
ple in  dark  business  suits,  and  the  same  streets  when 
hung  with  bright  and  varied  flags  on  a gala  day,  or 
crowded  with  throngs  decked  out  in  the  gay  and  check- 
ered trappings  of  a carnival  or  holiday  parade?  Of 
course,  uniformity  of  color,  like  uniformity  of  outlines  — 
as  in  parallelism — produces  a certain  seriousness  and  dig- 
nity of  effect ; and  any  procession,  the  members  of  which 
are  dressed  alike  and  march  alike,  will  produce  something 
of  this  irrespective  of  the  quality  of  the  coloring.  But 
there  is  a vast  difference  between  the  degree  of  serious- 
ness and  dignity  in  the  effect  of  a procession  of  priests 
and  nuns  robed  in  black  or  gray  in  a funeral  or  at 
church,  and  in  that  of  militia  uniformed  in  bright  colors 
on  a holiday  or  in  a theatre.  Seeing  the  funeral,  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  that  any  child,  or  a crowd  of  any 


* Green-yellow  of  purple,  red-orange  of  blue,  and  purple-red  of  green. 


200  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE . 

kind,  should  require  explanations,  aside  from  those  sug- 
gested by  color  alone,  to  keep  them  from  growing  wild 
with  enthusiasm  or  being  excited  to  cheers.  In  the  thea- 
tre, this  would  be  their  most  natural  mode  of  expression. 
Notice,  too,  how  much  more  the  children’s  eyes  dilate  to 
welcome  the  regiment  of  soldiers  clad  in  red  and  yellow, 
than  the  one  arrayed  in  blue  or  gray.  The  latter  colors 
may  be  the  best  for  the  ordinary  manoeuvres  of  the  bat- 
tle-field, more  easily  hidden  by  the  smoke,  more  decep- 
tive in  a question  of  distance.  But  in  a charge,  even 
upon  an  experienced  veteran,  the  regiment  clad  in  flaming 
red  will  be  far  more  difficult  to  withstand.  There  is  phi- 
losophy as  well  as  fancy,  therefore,  that  underlies  the  use 
of  this  in  the  costumes  of  the  British  regulars  and  of  the 
French  zouaves.  Nothing  having  to  do  with  color  can 
compare  with  it  in  effect.  These  facts  have  been  ex- 
plained according  to  the  principle  of  association.  It  is 
said  that  red  is  the  color  of  blood  and  fire,  and  suggests 
them.  But  does  it  suggest  them  to  the  bull  and  other 
animals  whom  it  excites  to  fury?  In  these  cases  does  it 
not  act  physically  ? Physicists  agree  that  there  is  no  color 
that  agitates  the  optic  nerve  so  violently.  There  seem 
to  be,  therefore,  just  as  in  the  case  of  outlines,  principles 
both  of  association  and  of  nature  which  cause  certain 
kinds  of  colors  and,  to  a less  degree,  all  colors,  when  at 
their  brightest,  to  be  representative  of  emotive  excita- 
tion, and  certain  other  kinds  of  colors,  and,  to  a less  de- 
gree, all  colors  in  their  lower  tones,  to  be  representative 
of  the  opposite. 

All  the  great  facts  of  nature  are  felt  long  before  they 
are  formulated.  When  the  man  born  blind  expressed  his 
conception  of  the  color  red  by  saying  that  it  was  like  the 
sound  of  a trumpet,  he  uttered  not  a poetic  but  a literal 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OP  COLOR. 


201 


truth.  Just  as  red  is  the  color  that  is  farthest  removed 
from  the  ordinary  colors  of  nature,  the  blast  of  the  trum- 
pet is  the  sound  that  is  farthest  removed  from  the  ordi- 
nary sounds  of  nature.  All  pastoral  symphonies  abound 
in  passages  executed  by  the  flutes  and  clarionets,  and  the 
violins  and  other  stringed  instruments.  With  the  music 
produced  by  these,  it  seems  natural  to  associate  the  sounds 
produced  by  the  rustling  and  whistling  of  the  wind,  the 
rushing  and  dashing  of  the  waters,  and  the  occasional 
piping  of  a bird  and  the  lowing  of  an  animal.  The  drum 
and  cymbal,  too,  may  remind  one  of  the  exceptional  thun- 
der of  the  storm,  or  the  roll  of  the  earthquake.  But 
when  the  flutes  and  stringed  instruments  give  way  to 
the  trumpet  and  allied  instruments,  then  we  feel  that 
man  is  asserting  his  influence  in  the  scene,  and  we  listen, 
almost  instinctively,  for  the  sound  of  his  tramping  feet. 
It  is  only  man  that  marches.  It  is  only  man  that  wages 
war,  and  it  is  only  in  martial  music  and  in  the  expression 
of  the  passion  of  conflict  and  the  pride  of  triumph  that 
the  blasts  of  the  trumpet,  announcing,  as  they  do,  more 
distinctively  than  do  any  other  musical  sounds,  the  power 
and  presence  of  the  human  being,  realize  to  the  full  their 
representative  mission.  No  wonder  that  even  a blind 
man,  at  the  end  of  the  play,  just  as  the  curtain  drops  on 
the  victorious  conquerors,  should  be  able  to  imagine  how 
there  should  be  an  aesthetic  connection  between  the  bril- 
liant climax  that  is  heard  and  the  brilliant  colors  in  the 
costumes  and  flags  which  are  described  to  him  as  sur- 
rounding the  conquerors,  and  waving  above  them. 

The  same  principles  must  apply,  of  course,  to  the  sig- 
nificance of  color  as  used  in  painting  and  architecture.  In 
the  ordinary  portraits  of  great  men,  in  such  paintings  as 
Raphael’s  “ School  of  Athens,”  Fig.  1 56,  page  249,  in  which 


202  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , .4 A7/)  ARCHITECTURE. 


we  find  grouped  together  the  celebrated  characters  of 
many  periods,  or  in  a representation  of  solemnities  like 
that  in  Jules  Breton’s  “ First  Communion,”  the  serious- 
ness and  dignity  of  the  subjects  are  such  that  we  do  not 
feel  the  need  in  the  pigments  of  much  brightness  or 
contrast.  But  whenever  anything  is  intended  primarily  to 
produce  a powerful  impression,  it  is  best  portrayed  in 
this  way.  Hence  one  reason  why  Rubens  with  his 
high  and  varied  coloring  is  so  transcendently  great  in 
such  representations  of  profound  excitement  as  in  the 
“Lion  Hunt”  or  in  “The  Crucifixion  ” which  is  in  the 
gallery  at  Antwerp,  or  in  the  “ Descent  from  the  Cross,” 
Fig.  163,  page  277,  and  is  so  transcendently  gross  in  sub- 
jects of  a lighter  character,  as  in  many  of  those  in  the 
Old  Pinakothek  at  Munich. 

But  there  is  also  another  reason  for  this  fact,  and  in 
connection  with  it,  there  is  another  confirmation  of  the 
general  truth  of  the  statements  just  made.  It  may  be 
recognized  by  noticing  the  effects  produced  by  colors 
upon  pictures  of  the  human  countenance.  So  far  as  this 
latter  is  more  than  a mass  of  lifeless  flesh,  so  far  as  it  is 
something  fitted  to  be  transfused  and  transfigured  by  the 
seriousness  of  intelligence  and  the  dignity  of  spirituality, 
is  there  any  doubt  that  it  should  be  represented  in  colors 
neither  very  brilliant  nor  greatly  varied?  May  there  not 
be  a sense  in  which  it  is  a literal  fact  that  the  blue  veins 
of  the  aristocrat  are  far  more  suggestive  of  sentiment 
and  soul  behind  them,  not  only  than  the  bloated  flush  of 
the  inebriate,  but  even  than  the  ruddy  hues  of  the  peas- 
ant ? Compare  even  the  “Beggar  Boys  of  Murillo, 
or  his  ordinary  women,  with  the  flaming  flesh  blistering 
on  the  limbs  of  Rubens’  denuded  females.  Not  alone  the 
angular  curves  that  often  form  the  outlines  of  these  latter, 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR.  203 


but  the  coloring,  too,  causes  all  the  difference  in  delicacy, 
refinement,  and  tenderness  of  sentiment  between  them 
and  the  former,  that  we  should  naturally  expect  to  find 
between  a friar’s  madonna  and  a farmer’s  mistress. 

So,  too,  in  sculpture.  Is  it  not  universally  recognized 
that  statues  of  dark  gray,  blue,  or  black  marble,  granite,  or 
bronze,  as  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  Egyptian  remains, 
(Fig.  147,  page  221,)  while  fitted  for  subjects  presented  in 
proportions  sufficiently  large  to  secure  great  seriousness 
and  dignity  of  effect,  are  less  appropriate  than  statues  of 
white  marble  for  subjects  of  the  same  general  character 
when  presented  in  the  proportions  of  life?  And  is  it  not 
equally  true  that  subjects  of  a lighter  character  and  smaller 
size  are  far  more  appropriately  represented  in  the  warmer 
colored  bronzes  ? 

In  architecture,  outline  has  usually  more  to  do  with 
effects  than  has  color.  Yet  here,  too,  few  fail  to  recognize 
the  influence  of  the  latter.  Who  can  be  insensible  to  the 
congruity  between  the  seriousness,  gravity,  and  dignity  of 
effect  produced  by  dark  shades  of  gray  or  even  by  white, 
as  they  loom  before  us  in  the  outlines  of  the  cathedral,  as 
in  Figs.  144,  page  205,  and  3,  page  24,  or  of  the  large  pub- 
lic edifice,  as  in  Fig.  203,  page  365,  or  in  the  capitol  at 
Washington  ? But  who  finds  it  agreeable  to  have  the 
same  conceptions  associated  with  buildings  designed  for 
domestic  purposes?  Observe  how  cold,  as  we  very  appro- 
priately say,  and  therefore  how  devoid  of  that  which  is 
homelike  and  inviting,  is  the  impression  produced  by  the 
blue-gray  or  white  of  a mansion,  like  the  one  occupied  by 
the  Manhattan  Club  of  New  York,  as  contrasted  with  the 
appearance  of  a house  constructed  of  material  in  which 
there  is  a more  liberal  admixture  of  the  warm  hues,  as  in 
stone  or  brick  of  a yellow,  orange,  red,  or  brown  tint.  This 


204  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


is  true  as  applied  even  to  very  dark  brown.  Compare  with 
the  mansion  just  mentioned  the  twin  houses  of  the  Van- 
derbilts, on  the  same  avenue.  And  what  of  the  warm 
colors  when  used  with  contrasts  ? Is  there  any  one  who 
is  not  conscious  of  the  joyous,  gay,  and  exhilarating  sug- 
gestions imparted  by  the  bright  and  varied  tints  that  in- 
vite one  to  the  pavilion  of  the  park  or  the  veranda  of  the 
seaside  cottage?  The  same  principle,  of  course,  is  exem- 
plified in  interiors.  Cold  colors  on  the  walls,  an  exclusive 
use  of  blue,  or  green,  or  even  of  white  will  always  affect 
the  sensitive  like  the  clouds  of  a lowery  day,  while  the 
warmer  colors,  used  either  wholly  or  in  part,  will  corre- 
spondingly enliven  them.  No  one  can  deny  the  impres- 
siveness of  the  gray  of  the  stone  arches  that  bend  over  the 
“ dim  religious  light  ” of  the  church.  But  even  the  effect 
of  this  needs  to  be  counteracted  by  warm  colors  in  the 
chancel  ; and  it  would  be  wholly  out  of  place  in  a theatre. 
The  difference  between  the  interior  of  the  Cathedral  of 
New  York  and  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  though 
largely  one  of  form,  is  still  more  largely  one  of  color. 
Some  years  ago  the  directors  of  the  Academy  of  Music  in 
Philadelphia  had  the  building  refitted.  The  walls  were 
covered  with  paper  in  which  blue  predominated.  The 
effect  was  manifestly  so  disastrous  to  the  complexion  of 
the  audience  and  the  cheerfulness  of  their  spirits,  that, 
during  the  twenty-four  hours  subsequent  to  the  first  night 
of  its  reopening,  the  entire  room  was  papered  again,  this 
time  more  appropriately.  Fortunately,  all  are  not  sensi- 
tive to  color,  and  few  of  those  who  are,  are  able  to  assign 
the  right  reason  to  the  causes  of  their  sensations.  All  the 
same,  it  behooves  those  who  know  that  certain  persons 
with  certain  temperaments  are  thus  affected,  to  avoid,  for 
their  sakes,  any  violations  of  those  conditions  which,  as  a 
rule,  conduce  to  cheerfulness  and  comfort. 


HQ.  144.— WELLS  CATHEDRAL,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  203,  3S0,  405. 


20 6 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^A’Z>  ARCHITECTURE. 

There  is  another  effect  of  these  cold,  as  contrasted  with 
warm  colors,  which,  perhaps,  should  be  mentioned  here, 
though,  for  another  reason,  it  belongs  to  the  subject  to  be 
treated  in  Chapter  XVI.  Owing  to  the  degree  of  light 
that  is  necessary  for  the  production  of  the  warmer  colors, 
it  is  only  when  objects  are  near  at  hand  and  therefore  are 
in  very  strong  light  that  we  perceive  these  colors  at  all. 
At  a distance,  as  exemplified  in  the  blue  of  mountain 
ranges,  everything  is  robed  in  the  cold  colors.  For  this 
reason,  it  is  held  that,  in  painting,  the  warm  colors,  with 
their  compounds  and  admixtures,  have  the  effect  of  caus- 
ing objects  to  seem  to  be  at  the  front  of  a picture,  and  the 
cold  colors  of  making  them  seem  to  be  at  the  rear.  We 
know  that  in  linear  perspective  the  farther  off  objects  are 
the  smaller  they  appear.  In  aerial  perspective,  the  farther 
off  they  are  the  more  dim,  or  blue,  or  purple,  or  gray  they 
appear  (see  Fig.  1 68,  page  297).  A careful  regard  of  this 
rule  may  sometimes  enable  the  painter  not  only  of  land- 
scapes but  also  of  figures  to  produce  very  striking  effects. 
An  illustration  of  this  has  been  noticed  in  “ The  Scourging 
of  Christ”  by  Titian,  the  greatest  of  the  older  colorists,  in 
which  a figure  necessarily  placed  in  front  of  our  Lord,  is 
painted  with  gray  armor  in  order  not  to  distract  attention 
from  the  Christ  himself,  who,  though  in  the  rear  of  this,  is 
thrust  into  prominence  by  the  red  coloring  of  his  robe. 
A similar  effect,  in  fact,  is  a result  wherever  this  color  is 
introduced. 

As  applied  to  architecture,  it  is  evident  that,  aside  from 
the  effects  of  form,  which  in  certain  cases  may  entirely 
counterbalance  those  of  color,  the  colder  the  color,  the 
more  massive,  as  a rule,  will  appear  not  only  the  building 
itself  but  also  the  grounds  about  it  ; the  effect  of  the  cold 
color  being  to  make  the  house  and  its  parts  seem  at  a 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OP  COLOR.  20/ 


greater  distance  from  the  observer,  and,  therefore,  greater 
in  size  than  it  would  be  at  the  supposed  distance.  Hence, 
another  reason  for  using  cold  colors  in  grand  buildings. 
The  same  principle  applies  to  the  painting  and  the  pa- 
pering of  an  interior.  The  warm  colors  cause  an  apart- 
ment to  seem  smaller  and  more  cozy,  and  the  cold  colors 
exactly  the  opposite.  The  latter  on  the  walls,  therefore, 
not  only  for  the  reason  suggested  on  page  204,  but  be- 
cause of  these  uncozy  effects,  are  objectionable.  But  for 
ceilings,  especially  of  public  halls  and  churches,  blue  at 
least  is  rightly  popular.  Thus  used  it  suggests  largeness 
and  elevation,  as  in  the  sky  which  it  seems  to  resem- 
ble ; and  it  also  furnishes,  as  a rule,  an  agreeable  contrast 
to  the  warmer  colors  appropriate  for  the  walls  and  floors. 

Now  let  us  consider  the  mixed  as  distinguished  from  the 
pure  colors.  Going  back,  for  a moment,  to  mixed  tones, 
the  first  of  them  that  was  mentioned  was  the  aspirate. 
This,  as  was  said,  is  a whisper,  and  its  characteristic  is  an 
absence  of  any  tone  whatever.  Of  course,  that  which,  in 
the  realm  of  color,  corresponds  to  an  absence  of  tone 
must  be,  according  to  its  degree  of  intensity,  black  or 
white,  or  else  some  gray  quality  formed  by  mixing  the 
two.  The  whisper,  in  its  forcible  form,  the  analogue  of 
which,  in  the  realm  of  sight,  would  be  black,  indicates 
apprehension,  as  in  fright  ; and  in  its  weaker  form,  the 
analogue  of  which,  in  the  realm  of  sight,  would  be  white, 
indicates  interest,  as  in  the  secrecy  of  a love-scene.  In 
both  forms  the  whisper  adds  feeling  to  the  tone,  which,  as 
a rule,  is  usually  uttered,  if  not  simultaneously  with  it,  at 
least  before  or  after  it.  This  tone,  of  course,  considered 
irrespective  of  the  whisper  that  is  joined  with  it,  must  re- 
semble either  the  normal  or  the  orotund.  If  it  resemble 
the  normal,  the  forcible  whisper  causes  it  to  have  that  pas- 


2C>S  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

sive  effect  of  apprehension  characterizing  the  expressions 
of  aive  and  horror  represented  in  the  mixed  quality  which 
is  termed  pectoral.  If  the  tone  resemble  the  orotund,  the 
forcible  whisper  causes  it  to  have  that  active  effect 
of  apprehension  characterizing  the  expression  of  hostility 
represented  in  the  mixed  quality  which  is  termed 
gutteral. 

In  the  realm  of  sight,  nothing  could  be  perceived  if 
everything  were  absolutely  black.  Black,  therefore,  as 
well  as  white,  must  always  be  blended  with  other  shades. 
When  blended  thus,  the  effect  of  being  side  by  side  is 
much  the  same  as  of  actual  mixture.  At  a slight  dis- 
tance, we  cannot  tell  whether  the  appearance  is  owing  to 
the  latter  or  merely  to  the  fact  that  two  shades  happen  to 
be  near  together.  Now  bearing  this  in  mind  we  may  say 
that  the  effect  of  black,  when  blended  with  the  cold  colors, 
corresponds  to  that  of  pectoral  quality,  and,  when  blended 
with  the  warm  colors,  corresponds  to  that  of  guttural 
quality. 

Notice,  first,  the  combinations  of  black  with  the  cold 
colors.  In  such  cases  the  black,  of  course,  must  be  very 
prominent,  and,  merely  to  render  the  objects  depicted 
clearly  perceptible,  it  must  be  offset  in  some  places  by 
cold  colors  of  comparatively  light  tints.  But  where  light 
tints  are  blended  with  absolute  black,  there  must  be  some 
violent  contrasts.  Violent  contrasts  of  themselves,  as 
shown  on  page  194,  represent  excitation.  Excitation, 
however,  in  connection  with  blackness, — to  go  back  to 
what  was  said,  on  page  193,  of  the  effects  of  light  from 
which  we  have  developed  those  of  pigmen-ts — is  excita- 
tion in  connection  with  more  or  less  indistinctness  caus- 
ing perplexity  and  involving  apprehension.  At  the  same 
time,  as  this  apprehensive  excitation  is  connected  with 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OR  COLOR.  209 

the  cold  colors,  it  is  passive,  or,  as  one  might  say,  chilling 
and  benumbing,  rather  than  active,  or,  as  one  might  say, 
heating  and  inflaming.  For  this  reason  its  effects  seem 
appropriately  compared  to  those  of  awe  and  horror  repre- 
sented by  the  pectoral  quality.  Of  course,  color  alone, 
without  other  means  of  expression,  can  only  approximate 
a representation  of  these  feelings  ; but,  given  the  outlines, 
and  what  hues,  mixed  with  those  of  the  countenance,  can 
make  it  so  ghastly  as  dark  blue  and  green  ; or  can  make 
the  clouds  of  heaven  so  unheavenly  as  very  dark  blue  ; or 
the  sod  of  the  earth  so  unearthly  as  dark  blue-green  ; or 
anything  so  deathlike  and  appalling  as  these  colors  used 
with  excessive  contrasts  of  light  and  shade  ? Is  it  any 
wonder  that  it  is  with  these  combinations  that  Gustave 
Dore  produces  most  of  the  harrowing  effects  in  his  series 
of  pictures  illustrating  Dante’s  “ Inferno”  ? 

Now  let  us  add  black  to  yellow,  orange,  or  red,  either 
mixing  the  two  or  placing  them  side  by  side,  and  notice 
the  effect.  As  said  before,  the  very  dark  shades  can- 
not, in  painting,  be  used  exclusively.  If  they  be,  the 
outlines  cannot  be  made  clearly  perceptible.  But  to  use 
black  in  connection  with  the  lighter  tints,  introduces  that 
variety  which,  as  said  on  page  194,  always  increases  the 
excitation  of  the  effect.  Warmth,  in  connection  with 
black,  or,  as  explained  in  the  last  paragraph,  with  apprehen- 
sive excitation, — emotive  heat  causing  active  resistance 
to  that  which  is  dreaded, — does  not  this  describe,  as  nearly 
as  anything  can,  a condition  attendant  upon  hostility  such 
as  is  represented  to  the  ear  by  the  guttural  tone.  In  the 
case  of  the  warm  colors,  too,  still  more  than  in  that  of 
the  cold,  nature  seems  to  have  enforced  the  meanings  of 
the  combinations  so  that  we  shall  not  mistake  them. 
Yellow  and  black,  orange  and  black,  red  and  black,  or, 


210  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

in  place  of  black,  very  dark  gray,  green,  blue,  or  purple, 
which  are  allied  to-  black, — is  there  a particularly  veno- 
mous insect  or  beast,  or  appearance  of  any  kind,  from 
a bee,  or  snake,  or  tiger,  to  the  fire  and  smoke  of  a con- 
flagration, or  the  lightning  and  cloud  of  a storm,  in  which 
we  do  not  detect  some  presence  of  these  combinations? 
No  wonder,  then,  that  so  often  in  former  times,  at  least, 
soldiers  wore  them  on  their  breasts  when  girded  for  the 
contests  of  the  battle-field  ! 

The  whisper,  in  its  weaker  form,  was  said  to  represent 
not  apprehension,  but  a more  or  less  agreeable  degree  of 
interest.  Of  course,  the  weaker  form  of  a negation  of 
color,  at  its  extreme,  must  be  represented  by  white.  As 
applied  to  tones,  there  is  no  separate  term  of  designation 
for  this  whisper  when  added  to  normal  or  orotund  quality. 
Elocutionists  merely  speak  of  an  aspirated  normal  or  oro- 
tund, saying  that,  when  aspirated,  feeling  is  added  to 
the  effect  of  each.  Let  us  recall  now  combinations  of 
white  with  blue,  green,  or  purple.  Is  there  any  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  how  closely  the  result  corresponds 
to  that  which  is  produced  by  an  aspirated  normal  tone  ? 
We  have  all  seen  such  combinations  in  summer  costumes, 
as  well  as  in  tents  and  awnings  over  windows  or  verandas. 
In  such  cases,  is  there  not  a more  exhilarating  effect  pro- 
duced by  them  than  could  be  produced  by  white  alone  ? 
or  by  one  of  these  colors  alone?  Yet,  at  the  same  time, 
is  not  the  effect  far  cooler,  and,  in  this  sense,  less  exhilara- 
ting, than  is  produced  by  combinations  of  white  with  red, 
orange,  or  yellow  ? 

In  these  latter  we  have,  as  has  been  said,  that  which 
corresponds  to  the  effect  of  the  aspirated  orotund, — the 
tone  used  in  earnest  advocacy  or  description  of  some- 
thing which  is  felt  to  be  in  itself  of  profound  interest. 


REPRESENTATION  BY  MEANS  OF  COLOR. 


21  I 


Think  of  the  combinations  of  white  with  these  warmer 
colors.  Could  any  language  better  than  that  just  used 
designate  their  peculiar  influence?  What  than  they  are 
more  exhilarating  or  entrancing  in  the  decorations  of 
interiors,  or  in  banners  and  pageants? 

Even  were  it  possible,  which  it  is  not,  to  illustrate  fully 
in  book-form  these  various  effects  of  color,  there  would 
be  no  great  necessity  for  doing  so.  By  following  up  the 
suggestions  that  have  been  made,  those  interested  in  the 
subject  will  have  no  difficulty  in  applying  the  principles 
unfolded,  sufficiently,  at  least,  to  become  convinced  of 
their  essential  accuracy.  Nor  is  it  necessary  in  this  place 
to  carry  the  discussion  further,  and  try  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  representative  possibilities  of  each  of  the  cold 
colors — green,  blue,  and  purple,  or  of  the  warm  colors — 
red,  orange,  and  yellow.  Viewed  in  their  relations  to 
mental  effects,  the  differences  between  the  colors  of  each 
group,  as  between  the  shades  of  each  color,  are  mainly  of 
degree,  not  of  kind,  and  depend  largely  upon  the  natural 
color  of  the  objects  represented  or  by  which  these  are 
surrounded.  In  a general  way,  one  might  say  that  a dark 
purple-like  blue  would  have  the  coldest  effect,  and  a 
bright  orange-like  red  the  warmest.  But,  as  applied  to 
the  human  countenance,  certain  shades  of  green  might 
seem  the  most  ghastly,  and,  as  applied  to  clouds,  certain 
shades  of  purple.  The  only  unvarying  fact  is  that  indi- 
cated by  the  general  division  into  cold  and  warm  colors. 
Accordingly  attention  has  been  directed  here  to  this,  and 
to  this  alone. 

With  the  representative  possibilities  of  color,  our  ex- 
amination of  the  various  elements  of  visible  expression, 
as  considered  separately,  has  been  carried  as  far  as  is 
necessary  for  the  purposes  of  the  present  volume.  The 


212  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


suggestions  of  the  subject,  however,  are  almost  as  infinite 
as  nature  itself,  and  are,  by  no  means,  limited  to  such  as 
are  derived  from  the  use  of  forms  in  the  higher  arts. 
This  fact  has  been  brought  forcibly  to  the  mind  of  the 
author  since  preparing  the  present  treatise  by  a large 
illustrated  pamphlet,  entitled  “ Principles  and  Methods 
in  Art  Education,”  containing  an  abstract  of  lectures  de- 
livered by  Principal  John  Ward  Stimson,  of  the  New 
York  Institute  for  Artist-Artisans.  With  a remarkable 
combination  of  analytic  ability  and  artistic  knowledge, 
the  lecturer  has  endeavored  to  connect  every  possible 
form  of  line,  though  used  merely  in  decorative  art,  with 
an  expression  of  a mental  conception.  Whatever  may 
be  thought  of  some  of  the  non-essential  details  of  his 
presentation,  which  are  elaborated  with  a marvellous 
amount  of  particularity  and  variety,  there  can  be  no 
question  of  the  very  great  service  which  he  has  rendered 
to  both  the  philosophy  and  practice  of  aesthetics.  By 
applying,  too,  as  he  does,  an  absolutely  correct  concep- 
tion of  the  connection  between  beauty  and  significance, 
where  the  presence  of  the  latter  is  the  most  difficult  to 
detect,  i.  e.,  among  the  elements  of  mere  conventional 
shapes,  he  has  very  greatly  strengthened  an  argument 
for  the  same  conception  when  applied  to  the  representa- 
tions of  man  and  of  nature  in  figures  and  landscapes  in 
which  the  necessity  of  significance  is  far  more  generally 
conceded. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  REPRESENTATION  IN  PAINTING 
AND  SCULPTURE. 

Connection  between  what  is  to  Follow  and  what  has  Preceded — How  Poetry 
and  Music  are  Developed  from  Language  and  Intonation — Analogous 
Methods  as  Exemplified  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — 
Prehistoric  Pictorial  Art  — Representing  External  Appearances  not 
only,  but  Mind — Earliest  Art  of  a Historic  Period — Picture  Writing — 
Hieroglyphic  Writing — Description  of — Art  as  Distinguished  from 
Writing  in  Egypt — In  Greece — Early  Representation  of  Ideas  and 
Later  of  Natural  Appearances  only — Symbolism  of  Early  Christian  Art 
and  Naturalism  of  Later  Art- — Ideas  and  Nature  as  Represented  at  the 
Renaissance  and  at  Present — Possibility  of  Two  Opposing  Tendencies 
— Justification  for  each  of  them- — Yet  need  not  Exclude  each  other — 
So  far  as  Exclusive  each  is  Detrimental — Practical  Application  of  these 
Facts  to  Present  Conditions — The  Yellow  Book — American  Illustrated 
Magazines — Importance  of  the  Subject. 

T N accordance  with  the  plan  indicated  on  page  14,  we 
have  now  studied  in  detail  each  of  the  factors  of 
appearance  of  which  the  forms  of  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture  are  composed,  and  tried  to  ascertain  the 
phase  of  mental  and  natural  phenomena  which  it  can  be 
said  to  represent.  Of  course,  it  follows  that  if  these  fac- 
tors, separately  considered,  are  representative,  they  must 
be  the  same  when  combined  with  others  in  a completed 
art-form.  In  the  remainder  of  this  volume  we  have  to 
observe  in  what  regards  this  is  true,  looking  at  the  sub- 
ject, first,  as  applied  to  painting  and  sculpture,  and,  after 
that,  as  applied  to  architecture. 

213 


2 14  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

In  the  volume  of  this  series  entitled  “ Poetry  as  a Rep- 
resentative Art,”  it  was  shown  that  the  art  of  poetry 
begins  when  a man  takes  the  instinctive  or  imitative 
utterances  which  he  finds  already  developed,  according 
to  the  methods  of  nature,  into  the  forms  of  words  and 
phrases,  and  develops  further,  according  to  the  methods 
of  art,  the  elements  of  which  their  forms  are  constructed. 
As  a result,  the  thought  and  emotion  which  these  ele- 
ments naturally  represent  by  way  of  association  or  of 
comparison,  continue  to  be  represented  in  the  art-products 
developed  from  them,  but  in  a far  more  elaborate  and 
aesthetically  effective  way.  So,  too,  it  was  shown  in  the 
essay  entitled  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art,”  printed 
in  the  same  volume  as  “ Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry 
and  Music,”  that  the  art  of  music  begins  when  a man 
takes,  as  a motive , a series  of  sounds  already  developed 
according  to  the  methods  of  nature  into  forms  of  utterance 
coming  from  birds,  beasts,  or  human  lips,  whether  in  speech 
or  in  a previously  existing  melody,  and  develops  further, 
according  to  the  methods  of  art,  the  elements  of  which 
these  forms  are  constructed.  As  a result,  the  phases  of 
thought  or  emotion  represented  in  the  orignal  utter- 
ances by  way  of  association  or  of  comparison,  continue  to 
be  represented  in  the  art-products  developed  from  them, 
but  in  a far  more  elaborate  and  aesthetically  effective 
way. 

Precisely  similar  are  the  conditions  underlying  results 
in  the  arts  of  sight.  These,  too,  are  more  elaborate  and 
aesthetically  effective  developments  of  methods  natural  to 
jnen  when  expressing  their  internal  thoughts  and  emo- 
tions through  using,  as  they  must  always  do,  the  external 
appearances  surrounding  them.  Of  the  developments 
themselves  there  are  two  different  phases — one  appearing 


REPRESENTA  TION  IN  SCULPTURE  AND  PAINTING.  2 I 5 


in  painting  and  sculpture,  and  the  other  in  architecture. 
The  differences  between  these  phases  and  the  reasons  for 
them,  are  explained  on  pages  28  to  32  and  need  not  be 
repeated  here.  The  first  phase,  common  to  painting  and 
sculpture,  represents,  as  indicated  on  page  30  of  this  vol- 
ume, and  more  fully  elaborated  in  Chapter  XlX.of  “ Art  in 
Theory,”  a condition  of  consciousness,  immediately  and 
constantly  under  the  influence  of  external  appearances; 
and  for  this  reason  a condition  manifesting  itself  through 
more  or  less  direct  imitation  of  these.  In  this  respect 
these  arts  are  correlated  to  poetry.  Indeed,  in  the  sphere 
of  sight  they  are  scarcely  more  imitative,  though  this  fact 


FIG.  145.— FIGURE  CARVED  IN  THE  STONE  AGE. 
See  page  216. 


is  sometimes  overlooked,  than  this  latter  art  is  in  that  of 
sound.  A figure  of  a man  untrue  to  the  conditions  of 
nature  would  be  no  more  out  of  place  in  painting  or 
sculpture  than  the  words  of  a man  untrue  to  the  same 
would  be  in  poetry. 

What  has  been  said  thus  far  in  this  chapter  would 
seem  to  make  it  desirable  to  show  here,  could  it  be  done, 
that  we  owe  both  painting  and  sculpture,  primarily,  to 
the  efforts  of  men  to  represent  in  a distinct  way  their  own 
thought  or  emotion  as  well  as  the  appearances  sur- 
rounding them.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that,  upon  first 
examination,  such  does  not  seem  to  be  the  case.  Gabriel 
and  Adrien  De  Mortillet,  as  illustrated  in  Plate  XXVII. of 


216  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 

their  elaborate  work,  the  “ Musee  Prehistorique,”  have 
shown  that,  back  in  the  prehistoric  time  of  the  Madeleine 
period  of  the  early  stone  age,  men  had  begun  to  carve  on 
bone  images  of  the  mammoth,  cave-bear,  reindeer,  ibex, 
saiga,  fish,  horse,  and  human  being  (see  Fig.  145,  page 
215).  Such  carvings  are  the  earliest  remains  of  art  of 
which  we  know  ; and,  although  some  of  them  in  a few 
museums  show  an  animal  and  a human  being  brought 
together  in  a way  suggesting  a desire  to  represent  ideas 
through  indicating  a connection  between  the  two,  the 
writer,  for  one,  has  seen  no  specimen  rendering  it  certain 
that  this  was  done  for  any  other  reason  than  because  the 
material  on  which  to  carve  was  limited  in  size. 

We  must  draw  the  inference,  therefore,  that,  in  very 
early  ages,  a desire  to  imitate  the  sights  of  nature  for 
their  own  sakes  irrespective  of  definite  ideas  to  be  repre- 
sented through  the  use  of  them,  must  have  existed.  But 
although  drawing  this  inference,  notice,  further,  that  any 
desire  to  imitate  sights  must  have  come  later  than  one 
prompting  men  to  imitate  sounds  ; and  this  for  the  same 
general  reason  that  children  of  our  own  day  learn  to  talk 
before  they  learn  to  use  a pencil  and  draw.  We  may  be 
sure  that,  at  the  time  when  these  figures  were  produced, 
the  primitive  man  was  in  the  habit  of  communicating 
ideas  through  vocal  utterances,  or  primitive  words.  If  so, 
he  had  definite  ideas,  and  he  had  them,  too,  with  reference 
to  the  visible  form  which  he  copied  ; and  it  is  incon- 
ceivable that  he  should  have  copied  this  for  any  other 
reason  than  to  represent  these  ideas,  though  not,  neces- 
sarily, to  communicate  them.  Notice  the  difference  be- 
tween these  two  aims  as  explained  in  Chapter  V.  of  “Art 
in  Theory.”  Or  look  at  the  subject  in  another  light. 
The  fact  that  these  figures  were  copied  at  all,  furnishes 


REPRESENTA  TION  EV  PAINTING  AND  SCULP  TURE.  2 1 7 

the  best  possible  proof  that  their  producers  were  men  and 
not  apes,  because  animals  never  copy  in  this  way.  In 
other  words,  regarding  forms  as  merely  results  of  imita- 
tion, we  have  to  acknowledge  that  painting  and  sculpture 
are  results  of  effects  produced  by  external  appearances 
upon  a mind  ; and,  as  any  effect  upon  a mind  has  to  do 
with  ideas,  there  is  a sense  in  which  a representation  of 
ideas  is  involved  in  any  attempt  at  such  imitation  as  we 
find  in  these  specimens.  See  “Art  in  Theory,”  Chapter 
VI.,  entitled  “Representation  of  Natural  Appearances  as 
Involving  that  of  the  Mind.” 

Moreover,  besides  this,  although  the  evidences  of  at- 
tempts to  connect  together  different  figures  or  certain 
parts  of  the  same  figure  so  as  to  direct  attention,  in  a 
definitely  picturesque  way,  to  the  conceptions  intended 
to  be  indicated,  are  not  clearly  discoverable  in  prehistoric 
periods,  they  are  discoverable  very  early  in  historic 
ones.  The  practical  uses  made  of  pictures  in  the  illus- 
trated publications  of  our  own  day  except,  perhaps,  as 
applied  to  caricature,  are  by  no  means  modern.  Immedi- 
ately after  the  times  in  which  national  records  were  kept 
by  means  of  knots  made  in  cords  of  the  same  or  of  differ- 
ent colors,  as  was  the  case  with  the  Peruvians  and  some 
of  the  tribes  of  Asia  and  Africa,  rude  figures  began  to 
be  scratched,  or  stained,  or  carved,  according  to  require- 
ments of  the  material,  either  on  green  leaves,  whence  our 
word  leaf  as  applied  to  the  page  of  a book  ; or  on  bark, 
often  of  the  beech,  whence  our  word  book  ; or  on  wood, 
often  of  the  papyrus,  a reed  growing  in  the  marshes  of 
the  Nile,  whence  our  word  paper  ; or  on  stone  or  metal, — 
all  of  which  figures  in  their  forms  were  what  is  termed 
ideographic,  because  representing  ideas  through  a 
graphic  or  pictorial  method. 


2 1 8 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

“ A piece  of  cotton  cloth  is  before  us,”  says  Collier  in 
his  “ History  of  English  Literature,”  “ brilliant  with  crim- 
son and  yellow  and  pale  blue,  and  oblong  like  a modern 
page.  It  is  a picture-writing  of  old  Mexico,  relating  the 
reign  and  conquests  of  King  Acamapich.  Down  the  left 
border  runs  a broad  strip  of  blue  divided  into  thirteen 
parts  by  lines  resembling  the  rounds  of  a ladder.  This 
represents  a reign  of  thirteen  years.  In  each  compart- 
ment a symbol  expresses  the  story  of  the  year.  A flower 
denoting  calamity  is  found  in  two  of  them.  But  the 
chief  story  is  told  by  the  colored  forms  of  the  centre, 
where  we  have  the  sovereign  painted  twice,  as  a stern- 
looking head,  capped  with  a serpent-crest,  with  a dwarfish, 
white-robed  body,  and,  separate  from  the  shoulder,  a 
hand  grasping  a couple  of  arrows.  Before  this  grim  war- 
rior, at  the  top  of  the  scroll,  lie  a shield  and  a bundle  of 
spears.  Face  and  feet  are  painted  a dull  yellow.  Before 
his  second  effigy  we  have  four  smaller  heads,  with  closed 
eyes  and  an  ominous,  bloody  mark  upon  lip  and  chin,  de- 
noting the  capture  and  beheading  of  four  hostile  chiefs. 
The  four  sacked  and  plundered  cities  are  depicted  by 
roofs  falling  from  ruined  walls ; and  beside  each  stands  a 
symbol  representing  some  botanical  or  geographical  fea- 
ture by  which  its  site  is  characterized.  Pictures  of  differ- 
ent species  of  trees  distinguish  two  of  the  cities  ; the 
third  stands  evidently  by  a lake,  for  a pan  of  water  is 
drawn  close  to  it,  united  by  a line  to  mark  close  connec- 
tion.” 

The  connecting  link  between  this  form  of  representing 
ideas  and  phonetic  writing,  whether  verbal  like  the  Chi- 
nese, syllabic  like  some  of  central  Asia,  or  alphabetic 
like  our  own,  is  found  in  hieroglyphics.  These  were 
used  in  Egypt,  and  innumerable  specimens  of  them  are 


REPRESENTA  TION  in  painting  and  sculpture.  219 

still  visible  on  the  existing  obelisks  and  tombs  of  that 
country.  Notice  the  characters  composing  the  inscrip- 
tions in  Fig.  146,  page  219.  In  these  characters  the  forms 
of  natural  appearances  abound  ; and  yet  some  strictly 
conventional  meaning  seems  to  be  assigned  to  each  of 
them.  They  express  abstractions  and  qualities.  To  quote 
again  from  the  work  just  mentioned  : “ In  the  hieroglyphic 
writing  of  the  Egyptians  the  queen  bee  represents  loyalty  ; 


the  bull,  strength ; an  ostrich  feather,  from  the  even- 
ness of  its  filaments,  truth  or  justice.  The  figures  are 
often,  especially  in  later  writings,  reduced  to  their  princi- 
pal parts,  or  even  to  lines,  the  latter  being  the  first  step 
toward  the  formation  of  an  alphabet.  For  instance,  a 
combat  is  represented  by  two  arms,  one  bearing  a shield, 
the  other  a pike  ; Upper  and  Lower  Egypt  are  denoted 
by  single  stems  topped  with  a blossom  or  a plume,  repre- 


220  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


senting  respectively  the  lotus  and  the  papyrus.  The 
coloring  of  the  hieroglyphics  is  not  in  imitation  of  nature, 
as  is  the  case  with  the  earlier  picture-writing,  but  follows 
a conventional  system  seldom  departed  from.  The  upper 
part  of  a canopy  in  blue  stood  for  the  heavens,  a thick 
waving  line  of  the  same  or  a greenish  hue  represented 
the  sea.  The  sun  is  red  with  a yellow  rim.  Man’s  flesh 
is  red ; woman’s  yellow ; . . . wooden  instruments 

are  pale  orange  or  buff ; bronze  utensils  green.  The  effect 
of  a hieroglyphic  writing,  as  it  strikes  the  eye,  is  very 
brilliant,  red,  yellow,  and  blue  being  the  prevailing  hues.” 
This  hieroglyphic  writing  of  Egypt  assumed  two  forms  : 
It  was  painted  on  papyrus  and  also  both  painted  and  en- 
graved on  stone.  “The  wall,”  says  Owen  Jones  in  his 
“ Handbook  to  the  Egyptian  Court  of  the  (London)  Crys- 
tal Palace,”  “was  first  chiselled  as  smooth  as  possible. 

Lines  were  then  ruled  perpendicularly  and  hori- 
zontally with  red  color,  forming  squares  all  over  the  wall 
corresponding  with  the  proportions  of  the  figures  to  be 
drawn  upon  it.  The  subjects  of  the  paintings  and  of  the 
hieroglyphics  were  then  drawn  on  the  wall  with  a red 
line,  most  probably  by  the  priest  or  chief  scribe  or  by 
some  inferior  artist,  from  a document  divided  into  similar 
squares.  Then  came  the  chief  artist  who  went  over  every 
figure  and  hieroglyphic  with  a black  line  and  a firm  and 
steady  hand,  giving  expression  to  every  curve,  deviating 
here  and  confirming  there  the  former  red  line.  The  line 
thus  traced  was  then  followed  by  the  sculptor.  In  this 
stage  there  are  instances  of  a head  or  a foot  having  been 
completely  sculptured,  while  the  rest  of  the  figure  remains 
in  outline.  The  next  process  was  to  paint  the  figure  in 
the  prescribed  colors  ; and  in  some  cases  the  painted  line 
deviates  from  the  sculptured  line,  showing  that  the 


REPRESEN  f A T10N  IN  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE.  22  I 


painter  was  the  more  important  workman,  and  that  even 
in  this  process  no  possible  improvement  was  omitted. 
There  are  other  instances  where  a considerable  deviation 
from  the  position 
of  a leg  or  arm  has 
been  made.  After 
the  sculpture  was 
finished  and  paint- 
ed, the  part  was 
recarved  and  the 
defective  portion 
filled  in  with  plas- 
ter, which,  having 
since  fallen  off, 
furnishes  us  with 
this  curious  evi- 
dence of  their 
practice.” 

It  must  not  be 
supposed,  how- 
ever, that,  even  in 
Egypt,  hiero- 
glyphic writing 
and  art — the  one 
intended  to  com- 
municate directly 
and  the  other  to 
represent  indi-  fig.  147.—  ancient  Egyptian  head : 

British  Museum. 

rectly  — were  not  See  pages  203,  222. 

clearly  separated. 

In  Fig.  146,  page  219,  the  distinction  between  the 
two  is  almost  as  apparent  as  in  modern  times.  At 
a very  early  period  in  Egyptian  history,  too,  we  find 


PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


statues  of  great  excellence,  in  the  production  of  which 
artists  were  evidently  actuated  by  a desire  to  represent 
nature  rather  than  thought.  The  face  in  Fig.  147, 
page  22  [,  according  to  the  dynasties  inscribed  upon  it, 
dates  back  to  between  1600  and  1400  B.C.  Doing  so, 
it  antedates  by  fully  three  hundred  years  the  conven- 
tional representation  in  Fig.  5,  page  27,  for  the  Piankhi 
there  depicted  did  not  live  till  toward  the  end  of  the 
twenty-second  dynasty,  somewhere  between  1100  and  975 
B.C,  Moreover,  the  “ Book  of  the  Dead,”  from  which 
Fig.  146,  page  219,  is  taken,  is  said  to  have  been  begun  to 
be  written  about  700  B.C. , though,  as  the  book  had  existed 
in  traditional  form  for  centuries,  the  date  of  the  origin  of 
this  illustration  is  uncertain.  Both  these  latter  figures, 
however,  show  how  completely  the  desire  to  represent 
nature,  as  indicated  in  Fig.  147,  page  221,  became,  after  a 
time,  subordinated  to  that  of  representing  ideas.  Indeed, 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  so  many  of  these  pictures  were 
symbolical  of  religious  conceptions,  some  have  supposed 
that  the  priests  must  have  begun  to  impose  rules  regulat- 
ing the  appearances  of  the  figures  used.  This  extreme  of 
conventionalism,  however,  after  a time  produced  its 
natural  result,  and  drove  art  to  the  opposite  extreme.  In 
Greece,  as  in  every  country  using  alphabetic  characters,  it 
was  always  recognized  that  writing  was  one  thing  and 
art  another  ; and  that,  while  the  first  might  accomplish  its 
highest  purpose  without  an  accurate  representation  of  ex- 
ternal forms,  the  second  could  not.  But  even  in  the 
earliest  Greek  art,  the  desire  to  symbolize  ideas  as  well  as 
to  copy  nature  was  still  prominent.  There  is  little  essen- 
tial difference  in  method,  for  instance,  between  Fig.  5, 
page  27,  illustrating  an  Egyptian  design,  and  Fig.  6,  page 
27,  illustrating  an  early  Greek  design,  dating  to  between 


RE  PRE  SEN  TA  TION  IN  PA  IN  TING  A ND  SCULPT  URE.  22 3 


558  and  700  B.C.  Through  all  the  periods  of  Greek  art, 
too,  there  was  more  or  less  of  the  same  style  of  treatment. 
Those  whose  attention  has  never  been  directed  to  the 
fact  will  be  surprised  to  notice  the  vast  preponderance  of 
groups,  as  contrasted  with  single  figures,  in  the  works  of 
Phidias  (490  to  430  B.C.),  who  represents  the  best  period 
of  Greek  art,  as,  e.  g.,  in  the  pediment  and  frieze  of  the 
Parthenon,  a part  of  the  latter  of  which  may  be  seen  in 
Fig.  148,  page  223.  Notice  also  the  Laocoon,  Fig.  21, 
page  49,  which  was  produced  probably  two  hundred  years 
later  by  the  artists  of  the  Rhodian  school..  Nor,  except 
in  comparatively  late  periods,  did  the  Greeks  produce 


FIG.  148.— FIGURES  ON  THE  FRIEZE  ON  THE  PARTHENON. 

See  pages  223,  225,  2S1,  282,  396. 


statues  with  exclusive  reference  to  form,  or  with  no  par- 
ticular regard  for  significance — statues,  for  instance,  like 
the  “ Venus  Leaving  the  Bath  ” (Fig.  149,  page  224),  the 
sculptor  of  which  is  unknown,  or  even  like  the  Apollo 
Sauroctonos  (Fig.  20,  page  48)  or  Venus  de’  Medici  (Fig. 
38,  page  77),  which  are  both  supposed  to  be  originals,  or 
imitations  from  originals,  by  Praxiteles,  who  was  at  his 
prime  about  360  B.C.  Of  large  numbers  of  other  stat- 
ues, too,  which,  at  first,  might  seem  to  belong  to 
this  latter  class,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that,  as  origi- 
nally designed  and  placed,  they  also  were  members  of 


224  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

groups,  which  fact  imparted  to  them  a significance  not 
now  apparent.  For  instance,  the  Apollo  Belvedere  (Fig. 
28,  page  62)  or  the  statue  from  which  it  and  a very  small 
ancient  bronze,  called  from  its  owner  the  Stroganoff 
Apollo,  are  both  considered  to  have  been  wholly  or  partly 
imitated,  is  now,  by  some,  supposed,  as  suggested  by  a 

German  scholar,  Ludwig 
Preller,  to  have  stood  at 
the  apex  of  the  pediment 
of  a temple  at  Delphi  with 
the  statue  called  “ Diana 
a la  Biche  ” (page  75,“  The 
Genesis  of  Art-Form  ”),  at 
one  side,  and  that  called 
“Athena  of  the  Capitol  ” 

(F‘g-  3 7>  Page  76)>  at  the 
other  side.  This  would  be 
in  accordance  with  the 
answer  said  to  have  been 
given  when  the  Gauls  ap- 
proached Delphi,  to  the 
question  of  the  people 
whether  the  treasures  of 
the  temple  should  be  re- 
moved. The  answer  was  : 

FIQ.  149. — VENUS  LEAVING  THE  BATH  : u J y 3 C 1 f T IT1  C 3,  n i II  g" 

Capitol  at  Rome.  . 

see  pages  76.  223, 225,281,282.  Apollo]  and  the  White 

Maidens  [meaning  Athena 
and  Diana]  will  take  care  of  that.”  Besides  this,  all  of  the 
Greek  statues,  even  when  not  in  groups,  were  more  or  less 
literal  reproductions  of  others  that  had  been  in  groups, 
or  with  which  in  some  way,  at  least,  the  Greeks  had  come  to 
associate  conventional  meanings.  The  complete  transition 


REPRESENTA  TION  IN  PAINTING  AND  SCULP  TURE.  225 

from  conveying  this  conventional  meaning  to  a condition 
in  which  they  conveyed  no  meaning  at  all,  took  place 
only  after  the  art  had  begun,  in  a very  marked  way,  to  de- 
cline. In  the  earlier  reliefs  and  statues,  for  instance,  both 
Bacchus  and  Venus  were  clothed,  and  characterized  by 
the  dignity  becoming  a god.  A convincing  proof  of  this 
is  that  almost  all  authorities — as  a result,  of  course,  of 
their  study  of  these  earlier  representations — agree  that 
the  fourth  form  from  the  right,  in  Fig.  148,  page  223, 
which  is  a copy  of  some  of  the  figures  of  the  gods  carved 
on  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  at  Athens,  represents 
Bacchus,  and  that  the  third  form  from  the  right  repre- 
sents Venus.  Nor  was  this  dignity  wholly  dropped  when, 
as  in  the  so-called  Venus  of  Milo,  the  desire  to  portray 
the  human  form  first  began  to  assert  itself  so  strongly  as 
to  cause  the  artist  to  drop  the  clothing.  But,  later  on, 
Bacchus  was  represented  as  in  a state  of  intoxication,  and 
Venus  as  nothing  but  a well-shaped  woman  (Fig.  38,  page 
77,  and  Fig.  149,  page  224),  and  sometimes  even  as  a wan- 
ton. But,  at  this  period,  when  it  had  been  forgotten  that 
there  was  any  need  of  significance,  in  representing  the 
gods,  or  of  any,  at  least,  worth  considering,  art  was  not  at 
its  best.  As  Wyatt  says,  in  his  “ Fine  Art  ” : “ The 

culminating  point  of  excellence  has  always  been  found  in 
the  art  at  that  stage  of  its  development  in  which  the  sculp- 
tor has  acquired  his  highest  powers  of  direct  imitation 
consistent  with  his  retention  of  command  over  and  power 
of  adhering  strictly  to  broad  generalizations.  Need  I 
point  out  to  you  that  the  perfection  of  such  a stage  was 
found  in  the  age  of  Pericles  in  Greece,  and  remains  for 
ever  written  upon  the  surface  of  every  fragment  of  the 
sculptor’s  art  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  that  illus- 
trious period.” 


226  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


In  the  latest  Greek  and  Roman  art,  comparatively  little 
attention  was  paid  to  anything  except  the  imitation  of 
form.  But  after  the  Christian  era,  there  came  a change. 
Religious  ideas  took  such  possession  of  men  that  to  sym- 
bolize these  became  their  chief  aim  ; and  for  fully  six 
centuries  nothing  was  produced  indicative  of  a careful 
study  of  the  appearances  of  nature.  About  the  end  of  the 
twelfth  century,  however,  there  came  another  change.  In 
the  Gothic  cathedrals  of  northern  Europe  (see  Fig.  1 50,  p. 
227,  representing  an  ornamental  arcade,  from  the  chapel 
of  the  palace  at  Holyrood,  Scotland,  dating  to  the  latter 
part  of  the  thirteenth  century),  the  forms  carved  in  stone, 
which,  up  to  that  time,  had  been  conventional  (see  page 
388,  also  390),  began  to  give  place  to  the  literal  repro- 
duction of  leaves,  flowers,  and  human  faces  ; and  in 
Italy  and  Holland  the  forms  in  paintings  gradually  came 
to  be  more  and  more  like  those  of  the  external  world.  In 
the  great  works  produced  by  Raphael  (see  Fig.  39,  page 
79)  and  by  the  painters  of  his  period  about  equal  atten- 
tion seems  to  have  been  given  to  the  representation  of 
mental  conceptions  and  of  natural  appearances,  and  from 
that  time  to  the  present,  this  may  be  said  to  have  been 
characteristic  of  all  the  painting  and  sculpture  of  the 
Europeans  and  their  descendants  in  our  own  country.  It 
may  be  said,  too,  that  the  rank  assigned  to  individual 
painters  has  usually  been  determined  by  the  degrees  of 
their  success  in  meeting  the  demands  of  both  phases  of 
representation.  The  figures  of  Benjamin  West  and  Julius 
Schnorr,  for  instance,  are  arranged  more  effectively  than 
many  a most  spectacularly  significant  climax  in  a drama  : 
those  of  Balthasar  Denner  and  Florent  Willems  manifest 
the  most  scrupulous  regard  for  the  requirements  of  line 
and  color.  Yet  because  exclusive  attention  to  either  sig- 


REPRESENTA  TION  IN  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE.  22J 

nificance  or  form  led  all  of  them  to  neglect  one  of  the 
two,  they  never  can  rank  with  artists  of  which  this  was 
not  true — Raphael,  Titian,  and  Rubens. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  possibility  of  having 
the  attention  turned  in  one  or  the  other  of  these  two 


FIG.  150.— ORNAMENTAL  ARCADE  FROM  THE  CHAPEL  OF  PALACE  AT  HOLYROOD,  SCOTLAND. 

See  page  226. 

directions  involves  the  possibility  of  two  different  practi- 
cal methods  in  art  not  only,  but  of  two  different  theories 
concerning  it.  According  to  one  theory  the  art  of  a pro- 
duct is  to  be  judged  by  the  degree  in  which  the  artist 
excels  in  expression,  i.  e.,  in  arranging  appearances  so  as 


228  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ANT  ARCHITECTURE. 

to  suggest  definite  thoughts  or  to  awaken  definite  emo- 
tions. According  to  the  other  theory,  it  is  to  be  judged 
by  the  degree  in  which  he  excels  in  imitation,  i.  e.,  in 
producing  an  exact  resemblance  to  the  outlines  and  colors 
of  nature.  As  shown  in  “ Art  and  Theory,”  there  is  a way 
of  reconciling  both  theories ; but  human  minds,  as  a rule, 
have  so  narrow  an  outlook  that  they  can  be  depended 
upon  to  snatch  a half-truth,  if  possible,  and  use  it  as  a 
weapon  against  the  whole  truth.  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  case  in  the  past,  an  artist  at  the  present  time 
cannot  compose  upon  the  theory  that  significance  is 
essential  to  the  highest  excellence  in  art  without  being 
stigmatized  by  certain  critics  as  “ literary  ” ; nor  can  he 
compose  upon  the  theory  that  imitative  skill  is  essential  to 
the  highest  excellence  without  being  stigmatized  by  cer- 
tain other  critics  as  being  “a  mere  technicist.” 

Of  course,  in  some  cases  the  use  of  these  designations 
is  appropriate  ; and,  in  all  cases,  it  is  easy  to  trace  their 
genesis,  and  find  some  justification  for  them.  To  inveigh 
against  the  literary  tendency  in  this  art  is  a perfectly 
natural  reaction  against  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  certain 
English  and  German  artists  of  the  early  part  of  the 
present  century,  like  West  and  Overbeck,  not  only  to 
revive  religious  symbolic  and  allegoric  painting,  but  to  do 
this,  apparently,  upon  the  supposition  that  a subject 
capable  of  being  made  impressive  by  an  elaborate  ex- 
planation, or  story  indicating  its  intention,  can  compensate 
for  an  indifferent  style,  an  idea  subsequently  developed 
by  the  English  Pre-Raphaelites  and  in  the  genre  pictures 
of  the  followers  of  Von  Schadow  at  Dusseldorf.  On 
the  other  hand,  to  inveigh  against  exclusive  attention 
to  technique  is  an  equally  natural  reaction  against  the 
exceedingly  tame  and  unimaginative  effects  produced  by 


REPRESENTA  TION  IN  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE.  229 

mere  imitation,  such  as  we  find  in  many  of  the  French 
pictures.  No  amount  of  care  expended  upon  the  por- 
trayal of  tint  or  texture  in  foliage,  clothing,  or  flesh  can 


FIG.  151.— THE  GIRLHOOD  OF  THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  ROSSETTI. 

See  pages  230,  252,  295. 

satisfy  the  artistic  ideals  of  certain  minds.  They  refuse 
to  admit  that  great  art  can  ever  result  from  any  possible 
elaboration  of  small  subjects. 


230  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


It  is  important  to  notice,  however,  that,  although  what 
is  said  against  either  of  these  tendencies  may  be  true,  so 
far  as  it  excludes  the  other,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate 
any  necessity  of  its  excluding  this.  Indeed,  an  endeavor 
to  analyze  the  interest  awakened  by  almost  any  picture 
will  reveal  that  it  is  necessarily  related  somewhat  both  to 
significance  and  to  form.  For  instance,  the  title  of  “ The 
Girlhood  of  the  Virgin  Mary,”  by  Rossetti  (Fig.  15  1,  page 
229),  proves  that  it  is  intended  to  interest  us  in  the  subject 
which  it  is  designed  to  represent,  and,  even,  as  indicated 
by  the  halo  around  the  dove  and  the  wings  on  the  child, 
to  symbolize.  Nevertheless,  that  which  gives  the  picture 
its  main  interest  in  the  history  of  art,  is  its  literal  repro- 
duction, in  the  pre-Raphaelite  manner,  of  the  special 
details  of  appearance.  Here,  therefore,  is  a picture  de- 
signed to  be  significant,  which  owes  its  main  interest  to 
its  form.  Again,  who  has  been  more  lauded  for  drawing 
his  inspiration  directly  from  the  appearances  of  nature 
than  J.  F.  Millet?  Yet  in  his  picture  of  “A  Storm” 
(Fig.  152,  page  231)  the  chief  interest  is  owing  not  to  any- 
thing that  the  artist  did  see  or  could  see  in  appearances 
about  him  ; but  to  the  representation  of  significance  sug- 
gested to  him  as  possible  in  connection  with  appearances. 

These  pictures  have  been  chosen  for  illustration  be- 
cause, in  both  of  them,  may  be  noticed  a tendency  which 
needs  to  be  developed  only  slightly  in  order  to  reveal 
itself  to  be  clearly  detrimental.  Owing  to  his  concep- 
tions of  the  requirements  of  form,  Rossetti  has  chosen  to 
ignore  much  that  has  been  supposed  to  have  been  learned 
since  the  Pre-Raphaelite  period  ; and  owing  to  his  concep- 
tions of  the  requirements  of  significance,  Millet  has  chosen 
to  ignore  much  that  has  been  supposed  to  have  been  learned 
since  the  period  of  the  early  landscape  artists.  Asa  result. 


FIG.  152.— A STORM.  MILLET. 

See  pages  230,  253,  259,  260,  295,  300. 


232  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


for  a different  reason,  primarily,  both  border  upon  unnatu- 
ralism, the  one  because  of  attention  to  the  particularities 
of  form,  and  consequent  emphasis  of  details,  which 
causes  a suggestion  of  stiffness  of  style  ; and  the  other 
because  of  attention  to  the  general  effects  of  significance, 
and  consequent  slighting  of  details,  which  causes  a sug- 
gestion of  looseness  of  style  ; and  both  of  them,  but 
apparently  for  different  reasons,  have  produced  results 
suggesting  those  characterizing  the  art  of  China  and 
Japan.  Under  these  apparently  different  reasons,  how- 
ever, there  is  a single  reason.  This  is  the  failure  of  both 
painters  to  give  equal  attention  to  the  claims  of  signifi- 
cance and  of  form.  Rossetti  tries  to  make  his  picture 
significant  through  paying  attention,  primarily,  to  the 
particularities  of  forms,  but  these  are  grouped  according 
to  a tendency  so  lacking  in  representative  suggestiveness 
as  almost  to  prevent  them  from  being  significant.  Millet 
tries  to  make  his  picture  a transcript  of  a natural  storm 
through  paying  attention,  primarily,  to  the  general  indi- 
cations of  significance  ; but  his  forms,  considered  aside 
from  their  groupings,  show  a tendency  so  lacking  in  repre- 
sentative imitation  as  almost  to  prevent  their  recalling 
actual  appearances.  It  is  evident,  too,  that  if  the  tendency 
in  either  picture  were  carried  a little  farther,  it  might  be- 
come in  every  sense  unrepresentative,  conveying  a satis- 
factory impression  neither  to  the  mind  nor  to  the  senses. 

Of  course,  almost  every  reader  of  this  book  will  feel 
inclined  to  say  that  such  a result  is  not  supposable  in  the 
art  of  our  own  time  and  country.  But  why  is  it  not  ? 
Notice  Fig.  153,  page  233.  No  one  can  deny  its  essential 
cleverness  and  ingenuity.  Nor  is  it  sufficiently  unrepre- 
sentative to  be  refused  classification  among  specimens  of 
representative  art.  But  when  one  hears  art-critics  term- 


. * «it<m«.CW*l*RT©NfcOwMlOf*©*»*  

^s^ST.nrmnnrism^n^nnnrLTinnnnnrmnsi.^ 

Printed  by  permission  of  the  Artist. 

FIG.  153.— COVER  OF  THE  CATALOGUE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  WATER-COLOR 
SOCIETY,  1895. 

See  pages  232,  234. 


233 


S‘?«r??ty2s?y?strzny7nnr2s7nns?ns?s2y?nnr2r2nns7y?s7y7y2s?r?s*z9' 


234  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


ing  it,  by  way  of  distinction,  “ artistic  ” and  “ very  artistic,” 
how  can  he  refrain  from  feeling  that,  the  next  time  these 
terms  are  used,  they  may  be  applied  to  what  is  distinc- 
tively inartistic  ? As  regards  significance,  the  splashing 
water  and  peacock  represent  water-color  only  by  a sort  of 
symbolic  pun  ; and,  as  regards  form,  the  foliage,  bird,  and 
woman,  with  the  wetting  that  she  is  giving  her  skirt,  all 
show  a very  decided  bias  toward  the  unnatural  side  of  the 
conventional.  “But  what  harm  can  this  do?”  maybe 
asked.  No  harm,  perhaps,  unless  the  same  tendency  be 
carried  farther.  But  will  it  not  be  ? As  a proof  that, 
unless  checked,  it  certainly  will,  let  any  one  glance  at  the 
illustrations  in  the  new  English  magazine,  “ The  Yellow 
Book  ” ; and  then  in  humiliation  read  over  the  names  of 
hitherto  reputable  authors  who  have  been  beguiled  into 
allowing  their  writings  to  be  printed  between  the  covers 
of  a periodical  started  for  the  purpose  of  making  such 
illustrations  popular.  We  are  told  that  these  are  speci- 
mens of  a new  style  of  art.  In  reality,  they  are  specimens 
of  a style  of  no  art  whatever,  if  by  the  term  we  mean  that 
which  is  art  in  the  highest  sense  ; and  this  for  the  very 
evident  reason,  which  those  who  have  followed  the  lines 
of  thought  in  this  so-called  unpractical  series  of  essays, 
will  at  once  recognize,  namely,  that  such  products  fail  to 
represent  either  mental  conceptions  or  natural  appearances. 
The  fad  which  they  exemplify  furnishes  merely  one  more 
of  many  inane  manifestations  of  Anglo-Saxon  affectation, 
the  same  trait,  exhibiting  the  same  inability  to  perceive 
the  essentially  ethic  as  well  as  aesthetic  connection  between 
a thing  to  be  expressed  and  a representative  method  of 
expressing  it  which,  for  years,  has  made  two  whole  nations 
speak  inarticulately  and  spell  irregularly,  and,  to-day,  is 
making  so  many  wear  monocles,  carry  canes  dirt-end  up- 


FI3.  154.— EASTER  ADVERTISEMENT  OF  THE  GORHAM  MANUFACTURING  COMPANY. 

235  See  page  236. 


236  PAINTING,  SCULP TUPE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

ward,  and  shake  hands  as  if,  forsooth,  they  could  not  get 
over  habits  acquired  in  clasping  the  fingers  of  court  ladies 
holding  on  their  arms  heavy  trains  at  the  queen’s  recep- 
tions. There  is  no  more  art  in  what  the  draftsmen  of 
this  “ Yellow  Book  ” suppose  to  indicate  it  than  there  is 
heart  in  what  so  many  of  their  patrons  now  suppose  to 
indicate  a hearty  welcome. 

Failing  to  obtain  an  illustration  of  one  of  the  drawings 
of  Aubrey  Beardsley,  the  chief  offender  in  the  “Yellow 
Book,”  the  author  has  been  enabled,  through  the  cour- 
tesy of  the  well  known  Gorham  Silver  Manufacturing 
Company  to  use  their  Easter  advertisement  for  1895  (see 
Fig.  154,  page  235).  Though  far  less  objectionable  than 
some  of  Beardsley’s  drawings,  it  evidently  belongs  to  the 
same  school,  and  suggests,  as  they  do,  the  Chinese  and 
Japanese  method  from  which — though  without  the  repre- 
sentation of  significance  which  usually  in  part  redeems 
this  method — it  is  imitated.  As  a symbol  of  artisanship, 
Fig.  1 54  can  be  argued  to  be  as  excusable  as  it  certainly  is 
striking.  But  notice  how,  for  the  reasons  just  given,  it  is 
entirely  outside  of  any  possibility  of  being  rightly  classed 
with  the  higher  representative  arts.  Yet  possibly  three 
fourths  of  those  who  see  it  do  not  recognize  this  fact. 
Why  should  they  ? — when  the  drift  of  artistic  taste  in  our 
country  is  so  decidedly  drawing  them  in  a direction  to 
prevent  them  from  doing  so.  It  is  true  that  we  have  no 
“ Yellow  Book  ” ; but  we  do  have  illustrated  magazines  ; 
and  some  of  them,  like  those  published  by  the  Harper 
Brothers  and  The  Century  Company  have  in  the  past  ex- 
erted an  influence  so  excellent  as  to  have  earned  a right 
to  be  considered  authoritative  in  matters  of  art.  But 
what  kind  of  taste  are  men  cultivating  to-day?  It  is  safe 
to  say  that,  twenty-five  years  ago,  no  American  publishers 


REP  RE  SEN  T.4  TION  IN  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE.  237 


of  respectable  standing  would  have  allowed  their  imprint 
to  appear  on  the  same  page  with  the  artistic  vulgarities 
which  our  foremost  firms  are  now  flaunting  upon  one  s 
eyes  from  the  posters  and  even  covers  of  their  periodi- 
cals ; nor,  if  so  flaunted,  would  any  one,  old  enough  to  live 
outside  a nursery,  have  looked  at  such  effects  a second 
time.  But  now  they  are  supposed  to  commend  them- 
selves to  the  taste  of  several  millions  of  people,  many 
of  whom,  after  the  schooling  that  they  have  received 
through  gradations  downward  to  the  present  low  level, 
are  actually  expected  to  think  them  interesting  and,  if 
critics,  to  speak  of  them  as  artistic  ! Nor  is  there  any 
commercial  excuse  for  this  abuse  of  artistic  opportunity. 
It  seems  to  be  owing  to  sheer  aesthetic  wantonness  irre- 
sponsibly debauching  popular  taste.  A single  glance  at  the 
covers  of  “ Borderland,”  for  instance,  will  show  any  one 
of  sense  the  feasibility,  at  least,  whatever  may  be  thought 
of  certain  details,  of  uniting  significance  and  form  so  as  to 
render  even  a commercial  feature  highly  artistic. 

Does  this  comment  seem  to  involve  treating  evident 
absurdities  too  seriously?  Does  any  one  feel  prompted 
to  excuse  them  because  they  are  merely  manifestations  of 
a species  of  play?  So,  as  shown  in  Chapter  VII.  of 
“Art  in  Theory,”  is  all  art.  The  point  to  be  observed  is 
that  the  manner  of  the  play  reveals  the  matter  of  the  art- 
conception.  Besides  this,  it  is  important  to  observe,  too, 
that,  owing  to  the  necessarily  imitative  action  of  the  mind 
in  connection  with  all  art-development,  nothing  can  de- 
generate quite  so  rapidly,  when  allowed  once  to  start  in 
the  wrong  direction,  as  art  can.  If  any  one  doubts  that 
we  are  getting  ready,  at  short  notice,  to  take  a stride  all 
the  way  back  to  the  artistic  conditions  of  the  middle  ages, 
it  might  be  well  for  him  to  ponder  the  facts  just  men- 


238  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


tioned.  Why  are  they  facts?  There  can  be  only  one  of 
two  reasons, — either  because  too  few  inventive  brains  are 
left  among  our  artists  to  give  us  products  representative 
both  of  mind  and  of  nature  ; or  else  because  too  few 
aesthetic  brains  are  left  among  our  patrons  of  art  to 
make  demands  upon  the  artists  which  will  necessitate 
their  finding  out  exactly  what  art  is. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINT- 
ING AND  SCULPTURE. 

Our  Interest  in  Objects  of  Sight  is  Influenced  by  their  Effects  upon  our 
Thoughts  and  Emotions — Bearing  of  this  Fact  upon  Representation 
in  Painting  and  Sculpture — Bearing  of  the  Same  upon  the  Use  of  the 
Term,  The  Humanities — Practical  Reasons  for  Disregarding  the  Im- 
portance of  Significance — Attention  to  Significance  not  Inconsistent 
with  Equal  Attention  Given  to  Form — Nor  Attention  to  Form  with 
Attention  to  Significance — Theoretical  Reasons  for  Disregarding  the 
Importance  of  Significance  : Lessing’s  Theory — The  Truth  of  this 
not  Denied  in  these  Essays — The  Real  Meaning  of  his  Theory — The 
Principle  Underlying  it — The  Reasons  Underlying  this  Principle — 
Pictures  that  are  not  Able  to  Interpret  themselves — When  a Picture 
is  truly  Literary — Illustrations — Events,  though  they  should  not  be 
Detailed  in  Pictures,  may  be  Suggested. 


JT  is  impossible  to  take  very  great  interest  in  a face,  or 
figure,  or  even  in  a view  of  rocks,  or  foliage,  or  water, 
except  as  something  in  the  expression  of  the  face,  or  in  the 
attitude  of  the  figure,  or  in  the  arrangement  or  general  effect 
of  the  objects  comprised  in  the  view,  strikes  us,  as  we  say. 
This  is  a graphic  way  of  representing  the  fact,  that 
thoughts  and  emotions  are  stirred  to  activity  when  the  eye 
perceives  objects,  just  as  inevitably  as  rays  of  light  sur- 
round a match  when  it  is  struck.  Inseparably,  in  such 
cases  two  elements  of  interest  are  present.  One  is  the  re- 
sult of  the  effect  perceived  by  the  eye  ; the  other,  of  the  ef- 


239 


240  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


feet  experienced  in  the  mind.  This  latter  effect  consists  of 
imaginative  experiences  which,  according  to  the  methods 
unfolded  in  Chapter  I , are  suggested  by  way  of  association 
or  of  comparison.  It  is  when  faces  appear  to  be  thinking 
or  feeling  something,  when  figures,  alone  or  in  connection 
with  other  figures,  appear  to  be  doing  something,  when 
fields,  houses,  hills,  waves,  clouds,  give  indications  of  cul- 
ture, comfort,  convulsion,  storm,  or  sunshine,  whatever  it 
may  be, — it  is  then,  and  in  the  exact  degree  in  which  this 
is  so,  that  the  objects  in  connection  with  which  we  have 
these  suggestions  prove  most  interesting.  The  worth  of  a 
diamond  is  measured  by  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the 
light  emitted  by  it.  The  worth  of  an  object  of  perception 
is  measured  by  the  quantity  and  quality  of  “that  light 
which  never  was  on  sea  or  land  ” — in  other  words,  by  the 
amount  and  character  of  thought  and  emotion  which  it 
awakens. 

If  this  be  so — and  who  can  deny  it? — why  does  it  not 
follow  that  the  art  which  represents  these  visible  objects 
can  be  successful  in  the  degree  only  in  which  it  represents 
also  the  thought  or  emotion  upon  which  so  much  of  their 
interest  depends?  Such  certainly  must  be  the  conclusion 
of  all  except  those  who  pretend  to  hold  a theory  which 
even  they  themselves  do  not  seem  to  understand, 
namely,  that,  given  the  art-form,  the  art-thought  appro- 
priate for  it  will  be  suggested  necessarily.  As  a critic  of 
“ Art  in  Theory  ” took  occasion  to  say  : “Art  is  simply, 
wholly,  and  entirely  a matter  of  form.  . . . The  best 

critical  judgment  opinion,  nowadays,  assumes  the  identity 
of  the  art-forin  with  the  art-meaning.”  The  only  trouble 
with  this  answer  is  that,  in  the  sense  in  which  one  would 
naturally  interpret  it,  it  is  not  true.  All  art-significance 
must  be  expressed  through  art-form  ; but  precisely  the 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING. 


24I 


same  natural  form  selected  for  art-imitation  may  convey  a 
very  different  quality  of  significance  according  to  the 
treatment  given  it  by  the  artist.  One  thing  that  he  can 
always  do,  is  to  arrange  features  so  as  to  make  them  ex- 
press what  he  wishes  them  to  express.  It  is  always 
possible  for  him  to  analyze  and  separate  a form  charming 
in  itself  from  a significance  which  could  make  it  still  more 
charming.  He  can  paint  a face  in  such  a passive  con- 
dition that  it  will  appear  to  have  no  mind  behind  it  ; or  he 
can  rouse  his  model  to  reflection  or  laughter,  or  imagine 
for  himself  the  results  of  these,  and  transfer  from  the  face 
to  his  canvas  only  such  colors  and  outlines  as  give  one  a 
glimpse  of  the  soul.  Still  more  can  he  do  the  same  when 
it  is  possible,  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  panto- 
mime, to  arrange  for  his  purposes  the  pose  of  the  whole 
figure  ; and  the  result  may  be  rendered  yet  more  effective 
through  the  opportunities  afforded  by  the  mutual  rela- 
tions, each  to  each,  which  may  be  indicated  through  the 
poses  of  several  figures.  The  same  principle  applies  also 
to  landscapes.  It  is  one  thing  to  represent  the  material 
effects  of  sunshine  and  storm,  and  another  thing  to  repre- 
sent their  mental  effects, — the  effects  which  they  have 
upon  the  imagination  ; and  a painter  can  content  himself 
with  doing  the  first,  or,  if  he  choose,  he  can  do  both. 
This  is  not  to  say  that,  if  he  do  merely  the  former,  his 
product  will  have  no  significance.  Wherever  there  is  form 
there  is  some  significance,  if  only  because  there  is  a lack 
of  it.  What  is  meant  by  the  ground  taken  in  this  para- 
graph is  that  unless  the  artist  have  it  in  mind  to  represent 
significance,  his  work,  as  a rule,  will  reveal  only  such  as  is 
of  trifling  importance,  such  as  has  no  distinctive  meaning  ; 
and  art  that  is  not  distinctive  in  a direction  in  which  it 
might  be  so,  is  not  art  of  a high  quality. 

16 


2q2  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Or  look  at  the  subject  in  another  light.  Instead  of  con- 
sidering particular  works  of  art,  as  they  appeal  to  indi- 
viduals, take  them  collectively,  as  they  appeal  to  men  in 
general.  What  do  men  call  them?  One  term,  almost 
universally  used,  is  “ the  humanities.”  Would  this  term 
have  been  used  by  way  of  distinction  unless  it  had  been 
thought  possible  to  suggest  in  the  art-work  all  the  high- 
est possibilities  of  humanity  ? Certainly  not.  But  is  there 
any  highest  possibility  of  humanity  which  is  not  connected 
with  the  human  mind?  Certainly  not,  again.  But  what 
is  the  mind  ? What  but  a reservoir  of  thought  and  emotion 
ever  on  the  alert  to  detect  significance  in  everything  that 
is  seen,  and  to  express  this  in  everything  that  is  handled? 
And  what  is  a human  mind  ? A mind  in  a body,  not  so  ? 
And  this  body  is  a combination  of  nerves  and  muscles, 
sensitive  to  every  phase  of  apparent  form,  and  capable  of 
being  trained  to  an  almost  limitless  extent  in  the  direction 
of  reproducing  it.  The  arts,  therefore,  which  are  dis- 
tinctively the  humanities,  must  involve  both  the  expres- 
sion of  significance  and  the  reproduction  of  form. 

Why  then  do  any  hold  an  opposite  theory  ? First, 
undoubtedly,  because  of  a practical  reason.  This  is 
grounded,  too,  upon  their  own  experience.  We  judge  of 
others  by  ourselves.  We  judge  of  their  art  by  the  art  which 
is  possible  to  ourselves.  While  great  art  requires  great 
breadth  of  view  and  distance  of  aim,  the  majority  of  men 
are  not  great.  Their  views  are  narrow,  and  their  goals  are 
near  them.  When  their  attention  is  directed  to  signifi- 
cance, they  forget  to  attend  to  the  requirements  of  form  ; 
and  when  attention  is  directed  to  form,  they  forget  about 
significance.  That  which  they  themselves  do,  they  natu- 
rally suppose  that  everybody  must  do.  Human  nature 
being  what  it  is,  they  naturally  come  to  think  too  that 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING. 


243 


this  is  what  everybody  ought  to  do.  For,  unless  they  are 
to  admit  that  they,  themselves,  are  not  entitled  to  rank 
with  artists  of  the  foremost  class,  what  can  be  allowed  to 
determine  excellence  in  art  except  their  own  standards? 
At  periods  like  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  or 
in  countries  like  England  or  Germany,  where  value  in  art 
is  mainly  thought  to  be  determined  by  significance,  signifi- 
cance becomes  the  aim  ; and  in  the  degree  in  which  men 
are  forced  to  recognize  that  there  can  be  no  accurate  re- 
production of  an  appearance  without  what  they  lack — i.  e., 
thorough  study  of  the  best  methods  and  facility  acquired 
by  practice — they  will  be  anxious  to  convince  themselves 
and  to  persuade  others  that  mastery  in  significance  can 
compensate  for  a lack  of  mastery  in  technique.  On  the 
other  hand,  at  a period  like  the  present,  and  in  countries 
like  France  and  our  own,  where  value  in  art  is  mainly 
thought  to  be  determined  by  success  in  reproducing  an  ap- 
pearance, they  will  aim  to  do  this;  and,  in  the  degree  in 
which  they  are  forced  to  recognize  that  significance  cannot 
be  given  to  an  art-product  without  what  they  lack— z’.  e., 
great  constructive  powers  of  imagination — they  will  be 
anxious  to  believe  for  themselves,  and  to  persuade  the 
world  that  success  in  technique  can  compensate  for  success 
in  rendering  the  product  significant. 

But,  to  go  back  to  the  opinion  from  which  these  last 
views  are  deductions,  is  it  a fact  that  attention  to  signifi- 
cance is  inconsistent  with  an  equal  degree  of  attention 
given  to  form  ? Why  should  this  be  the  case  ? In  poetry 
a metaphor  or  simile  is  not  less  but  more  successful  in  the 
degree  in  which  to  the  representation  of  the  thought  in- 
volved it  adds  fidelity  to  the  scene  in  nature  by  a com- 
parison with  which  this  thought  is  represented.  Notice 
the  italicized  words  in  the  following  : 


244  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


And  multitudes  of  dense,  white,  fleecy  clouds 
Were  wandering  in  thick  flocks  along  the  mountains, 
Shepherded  by  the  slow,  unwilling  wind. 

— Prometheus  Unbound , ii. , I : Shelley. 

I ’ve  learned  to  prize  the  quiet  lightning  deed  ; 

Not  the  applauding  thunder  at  its  heels, 

Which  men  call  fame. 

— A Life  Drama , 13  : Alex.  Smith. 

Still  as  a slave  before  his  lord, 

The  ocean  hath  no  blast  ; 

His  great  bright  eye  most  silently 
Up  to  the  moon  is  cast. 

— The  Ancient  Mariner  : Coleridge. 

I should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 

That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty , 

Did  I but  speak  thy  deeds. 

• — Othello , iv. , 2 : Shakespear . 

This  battle  fares  like  to  the  morning’s  war, 

When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light  ; 

What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails , 

Can  neither  call  it  perfect  day  nor  night. 

— 3 Henry  VI.,  ii.,  5:  Idem. 

The  same  principle  applies  to  accuracy  in  the  imitation 
of  forms  which  in  painting  and  sculpture  also  may  embody 
significance.  In  this  and  two  following  chapters  we  are  to 
treat  of  the  representation  of  significance;  and  in  Chapter 
XVI.  of  the  representation  of  the  appearances  of  nature. 
There  is  nothing  inconsistent  in  insisting  upon  the  pos- 
sibility and  necessity  of  giving  equal  attention  to  both. 

But,  just  here,  we  are  reminded  that,  besides  this  prac- 
tical reason  underlying  the  theory  that  significance  and 
form  are  not  equally  essential  in  the  art-product,  there  is, 
as  urged,  especially  in  our  own  time  by  those  who  term 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING. 


245 


the  representation  of  thought  in  art  “ literary,”  a supposed 
philosophical  reason.  This  is  presumed  to  be  a logical 
inference  from  the  conclusions  reached  by  Lessing  in  his 
famous  criticism,  defining  the  limitations  of  poetry  and 
painting,  entitled  “ The  Laocoon.”  According  to  him, 
the  subject  of  poetry,  because  this  is  presented  in  words 
that  follow  one  another  in  time,  should  be  confined  to 
that  which  in  nature  is  presented  in  time,  as  is  the  case 
with  events  described  in  stories.  The  subject  of  a paint- 
ing or  a statue,  however,  because  this  is  presented  in  a 
material  that  exists  in  space,  should  be  confined  to  that 
which  in  nature  is  presented  in  space.  “This,”  say  these 
artists  and  the  critics  who  uphold  them,  “ is  an  acknowl- 
edged principle  in  art  ; and  pictures  which  tell  a story 
violate  it.  Therefore  it  is  that,  when  they  do  this,  we 
term  them  ‘ literary,’  and,  in  doing  so,  we  imply,  and 
have  a right  to  imply,  that  they  are  inartistic.” 

But  is  it  not  possible  that  one  may  acknowledge  the 
general  truth  of  Lessing’s  theory,  and  yet  deny  the  legiti- 
macy of  the  special  application  of  it  which  is  made  in  this 
particular  case?  Not  only  is  the  general  accuracy  of 
Lessing’s  theory  acknowledged  in  “Art  in  Theory,”  but  a 
correlated  and  confirmatory  theory  is  advanced,  derived 
from  the  requirements  not  merely  of  the  external  medium 
in  which  the  subjects  of  these  arts  are  presented,  but  also 
of  the  mental  condition  in  which  they  are  originated.  In 
Chapter  XIX.  of  that  book  it  is  said  that,  in  the  phase  of 
consciousness  represented  in  poetry,  the  man  thinks  of 
certain  scenes  in  the  external  world  because  they  are  sug- 
gested, not  by  anything  that  he  is  actually,  at  the  time, 
perceiving  there,  but  by  his  own  recollections  of  them  as 
they  exist  in  thought.  To  one  likening  his  actions  in  a 
battle  to  that  of  Wellington  at  Waterloo  and  of  Grant  at 


246  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^Ar/)  ARCHITECTURE. 

Vicksburg,  these  men  are  not  really  present,  only  ideally 
so.  As  objects  of  thought  they  are  not  outside  of  his 
mind,  they  are  in  it.  For  this  reason,  any  descriptive  de- 
tails are  out  of  place  in  poetry  other  than  those  of  such 
prominence  that  a man  observing  them  may  reasonably 
be  supposed  to  be  able  to  retain  them  in  memory  other 
than  those,  to  state  it  differently,  which  are  illustrative  in 
their  nature,  and  truly  representative,  therefore,  of  ideas 
within  the  mind  as  excited  to  conscious  activity  by  influ- 
ences from  without.  There  is,  of  course,  a certain  inter- 
est, though  sometimes  not  above  that  which  is  merely 
botanic  and  topographic,  awakened  by  minute  descrip- 
tions of  flowers  and  fields  such  as  a painter  on  the  spot 
would  be  able  to  give  while  scrutinizing  them  in  order  to 
depict  them.  But  this  interest  may  be  just  as  different 
from  that  which,  in  the  circumstances,  is  aesthetic,  as  it 
would  be  were  it  merely  didactic  or  dogmatic.  On  the 
contrary,  in  the  mood  represented  in  painting,  the  man 
thinks  of  external  scenes  because  they  are  actually  before 
him.  He  is  clearly  conscious  therefore  of  two  different 
sources  of  thought — one  within,  the  other  without.  The 
objective  world  is  really  present.  If  he  wish  to  represent 
this  fact,  therefore,  he  cannot  use  merely  words.  Words 
can  contain  only  what  is  in  the  mind,  or  ideally  present. 
In  order  to  represent  in  any  true  sense  what  is  really 
present  he  must  use  what  is  really  before  him,  i.  e.,  an  in- 
disputably external  medium,  as  in  painting,  sculpture,  and 
architecture. 

These  statements  are  a proof  that,  whatever  may  be 
said  here  is  not,  at  least,  supposed  to  go  contrary  to  the 
general  theory  of  Lessing.  But,  in  order  to  understand 
that  it  does  not,  one  must  first  perceive  exactly  what 
Lessing  meant.  To  do  this,  so  far  as  concerns  the  more 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING 247 

superficial  application  of  his  principle,  is  not  difficult.  He 
meant,  of  course,  that  painters  should  not  attempt  to  por- 
tray different  events  supposably  occurring  at  different 
periods  of  time.  He  meant  that  nothing  should  be  deline- 
ated not  supposably  perceptible  at  one  and  the  same 


riQ.  155.— EPITOMIZED  STORY  OF  ISAAC,  JACOB,  AND  ESAU.  RELIEF  FROM  BAPTISTRY, 
FLORENCE.  LORENZO  GHIBERTI. 

See  pages  248,  286,  302. 


time.  His  principle  would  rule  out,  therefore,  as  unfitted 
for  representation  in  painting,  a great  many  religious,  sym- 
bolic and  even  historic  paintings,  most  of  these  produced 
in  earlier  ages,  but  some  also  in  our  own  age.  In  the 
Vatican,  for  instance,  there  is  a Greek  manuscript  which 


248  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE, 

represents  the  life  of  Joshua  in  a series  of  illustrations 
which,  like  the  reliefs  in  Trajan’s  column,  form  a continu- 
ous band.  In  the  “ Adoration  of  the  Magi  ” by  Bernar- 
dino Luini,  we  see  not  only  the  Magi  bowing  before  the 
infant  Christ  in  the  foreground,  but  also  have  a view  of 
their  journey  from  their  home,  represented  in  a line  of 
horses  and  camels  heavily  laden  descending  in  a zig-zag 
pathway  the  side  of  a hill  in  the  background  ; and  in  the 
same  painter’s  “ Presentation  at  the  Temple,”  besides 
this  ceremony  in  the  front  of  the  picture,  in  the  rear  of  it 
is  shown  us  the  flight  of  the  holy  family  into  Egypt.  So, 
too,  in  the  single  relief  from  the  “ Baptistry  of  Florence,” 
by  Lorenzo  Ghiberti,  an  epitome  is  presented  of  the  sto- 
ries of  Isaac,  Jacob,  and  Esau,  all  three  (Fig.  155,  page  247). 
Again,  in  the  Staircase  Hall  of  the  “ New  Museum  ” at 
Berlin,  there  are  six  large  allegorical  paintings  by  Kaul- 
bach.  In  that  one  of  them  entitled  “ The  Destruction  of 
Jerusalem,”  characters  are  brought  together  all  the  way 
from  the  time  of  Isaiah  through  that  of  Titus  to  that  of 
the  Wandering  Jew.  In  the  one  entitled  “The  Age  of 
the  Reformation  ” we  have  Wycliff  and  Calvin,  Hans 
Sachs  and  Shakespear,  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Kaul- 
bach  himself.  In  an  analogous  way,  in  “ The  School  of 
Athens,”  Fig.  156,  page  249,  Raphael  has  placed  not  only 
Greek  philosophers  living  at  different  periods  but  the  Per- 
sian Zoroaster,  and  even,  in  the  largest  figures  at  the  ex- 
treme right,  himself  with  his  master,  Perugino.  Whether 
these  paintings  violate  the  principle  of  Lessing,  and, 
whether,  if  they  do,  they  deserve  censure,  is  of  course,  an 
open  question.  Some  would  argue  that  those  of  Kaul- 
bach  and  Raphael  at  least  do  not.  They  would  say  that 
to  bring  together  characters  living  at  different  periods 
involves  no  violation  of  Lessing’s  principle  because  it  is 


249  FIG.  156.— SCHOOL  OF  ATHENS.  RAPHAEL. 

Seepages  201,  248,  272,  287. 


250  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


possible  and  probable  that  the  imagination,  in  summoning 
before  its  vision,  the  “ Destruction  of  Jerusalem,”  or  “ The 
Reformation,”  or  “ The  School  of  Athens,”  would  do  the 
same.  They  would  argue,  besides  this,  on  the  principle 
that  the  “ proof  of  the  pudding  is  the  eating,”  that,  as  a 
fact,  these  very  pictures  are  greatly  admired,  and  therefore 
actually  do  satisfy  aesthetic  tastes. 

These  considerations  suggest  that,  underlying  Lessing’s 
theory,  may  be  a principle  more  important  than  that 
which  is  fulfilled  as  a result  of  a mere  literal  interpreta- 
tion of  it.  A picture  is  something  perceptible  in  a moment 
of  time.  To  represent  with  accuracy  anything  true  to 
this  condition,  all  the  aesthetic  interest  attaching  to  its 
form  or  to  its  significance  should  be  suggested  through 
factors  all  of  which  are  supposably  perceptible  at  this 
moment.  In  the  “ Presentation  at  the  Temple  ” by  Luini, 
mentioned  on  page  248,  this  principle  is  clearly  violated  ; 
because  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  the  same  family 
at  precisely  the  same  time  should  be  in  the  temple  and 
also,  as  is  represented,  engaged  in  fleeing  to  Egypt.  With 
reference  to  the  pictures  of  Kaulbach  and  Raphael,  on  the 
contrary,  it  may  be  argued  that  the  principle  is  not  vio- 
lated, because  in  no  case  are  the  same  characters  repre- 
sented as  doing  different  things  at  the  same  time,  and, 
though  some  of  the  men  lived  at  different  periods  in  his- 
tory, they  are  represented  in  the  picture  as  all  living  at 
the  same  period. 

A further  consideration,  justifying  the  aesthetic  interest 
excited  by  these  latter  pictures,  will  be  mentioned  pres- 
ently. Just  now  the  most  important  suggestion  forcing 
itself  upon  us  is  that,  possibly,  Lessing’s  principle  has  not 
been  thoroughly  understood  ; and  that,  if  it  had  been, 
certain  apparent  violations  of  it  would  not  be  deemed  so 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING. 


251 


in  reality.  Let  us  ask,  then — for  we  must  never  forget 
that  a principle  cannot  be  applied  successfully,  except  as 
one  understands  the  reason  underlying  it — let  us  ask  what 
was  the  reason  underlying  Lessing’s  principle — What  was 
it  but  this?  He  objected  to  pictures  necessitating  the 
delineation  of  successive  events  because  they  attempt  the 
impossible.  Successive  events  are  never  perceived  at  one 
time.  Therefore  they  cannot  be  represented  at  one  time, 
and  a picture  which  attempts  to  represent  them  thus  is 
unnatural  ; and — largely  because  it  is  so — cannot  be  un- 
derstood without  an  explanation.  Nobody  can  under- 
stand Luini’s  “ Presentation  in  the  Temple,”  described 
on  page  248,  unless  some  one  tells  him,  or  he  himself 
discovers,  as  a result  of  no  little  thinking,  that  the  same 
family  represented  as  in  the  temple  subsequently  un- 
dertook the  flight  into  Egypt.  Lessing’s  idea  was  that 
a painting  should  not  need  such  an  explanation  ; that,  as 
a work  of  art,  it  should  embody  the  source  of  its  own 
interest;  that  it  should  be  able,  in  all  cases,  to  interpret 
itself. 

But  suppose  that,  for  the  reason  which  Lessing  gave 
when  he  said  that  it  should  present  only  that  which  could 
be  perceived  at  one  time,  or  for  any  other  reason,  the  pict- 
ure is  not  able  to  interpret  itself.  Then  it  needs  an  expla- 
nation. Such  an  explanation  is  necessarily  made  in  words, 
and,  often,  in  printed  words.  Words,  whether  printed  or 
not,  are  the  substance  of  literature.  A painting  which 
cannot  be  of  interest  until  one  is  made  acquainted  with 
the  literature  of  the  subject,  until  one  has  read  or  heard 
the  words  of  a story  which  it  is  supposed  to  illustrate — 
what  is  this? — What,  but  a painting  which  may  be  said 
to  owe  its  interest  to  literature  ; and  in  this  sense  a paint- 
ing that  is  “literary.”  It  is  to  subjects  of  such  paintings 


252  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


that  John  Opie,  in  the  second  of  his  “Lectures  on  De- 
sign,” refers,  when  he  says  that  they  “ are  incapable  of 
affording  more  than  a bald  and  insipid  representation  on 
canvas.  Of  this  description  is  the  incident  in  the  Iliad, 
where  one  of  Priam’s  younger  sons,  fallen  before  the  supe- 
rior force  of  Achilles,  solicits  his  life  on  account  of  his 
youth.  ‘ Wretch,’  exclaims  the  furious  hero,  ‘dost  thou 
complain  of  dying  when  thou  knowest  that  Achilles  must 
shortly  die?’  Such  also  is  the  celebrated  passage  in 
Corneille’s  ‘ Iloratii,’  where  the  father  of  one  set  of  the 
combatants,  on  being  informed  that  his  son,  left  single 
against  his  three  antagonists,  had  turned  his  back,  appears 
much  agitated  and  enraged  ; and  when  one  of  his  attend- 
ants asks,  ‘ What  should  your  son  have  done?  ’ instantly 
retorts,  ‘ He  should  have  died.’  ” 

According  to  what  has  been  said,  it  will  be  perceived 
that  the  term  “ literary,”  as  one  of  disparagement,  is 
rightly  applied  to  pictures  that  need  to  be  interpreted  by 
a verbal  story;  in  other  words  to  pictures  that  do  not 
represent  their  own  story.  But  is  this  what  is  meant  by 
those  who,  in  our  own  time,  most  use  the  term  ? No  ; but 
often  the  opposite.  The  term  is  applied  to  pictures  that 
do  represent  their  own  story  ; and  because  they  do  this 
(See  page  270).  Thus  a deduction  from  Lessing’s  prin- 
ciple is  employed  in  order  to  disparage  the  very  kind  of 
pictures  that  he  would  have  commended.  Nor  is  it  the 
first  time  that  inability  to  interpret  the  spirit  of  a law 
beneath  the  letter  of  it  has  caused  the  disciples  of  a master 
to  suppose  themselves  to  be  following  his  lead,  when  they 
are  going  in  diametrically  the  opposite  direction. 

Nor,  even  when  following  his  lead,  do  such  disciples 
know  why  they  do  it.  Most  of  them  would  probably  term 
“ literary  ” the  pre-Raphaelite  “ Girlhood  of  the  Virgin 


MENTAL  CONCEPTIONS  IN  PAINTING. 


253 


Mary”  (Fig.  151,  page  229);  and  would  do  this  on  the 
ground  that  it’s  interest  is  made  dependent  upon  a story. 
But  upon  what  story?  Upon  one  that  the  picture  repre- 
sents? No.  The  picture  is  literary  ; but  it  is  this  because 
it  does  not — as  they  phrase  it — “ tell  a story.”  It  is  an 
attempt  at  representative  art  which  fails  because  it  doe* 
not  represent.  No  one  can  understand  what  it  means  with- 
out being  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  the  subject, 
without  having  read  or  heard  elsewhere  the  story  of  the 
Virgin  Mary.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  same  critics 
would  commend  Millet’s  “ Storm  ” (Fig.  152,  page  231),  as 
not  literary  on  the  ground  that  it  does  not  “tell  a story.” 
In  this  case,  as  in  the  former,  they  would  be  right  in  their 
use  of  the  term,  but  wrong  in  the  reason  assigned  for  it. 
The  picture  is  not  literary  ; but  the  reason  is,  that  it  does 
tell,  or,  more  strictly,  represent  a story.  Notice,  also,  that 
in  this  story  of  the  storm  are  conveyed  very  distinct 
impressions  of  a series  of  events  involving  sources  and 
results  which  could  be  developed  only  in  time. 

But  notice,  too,  that  these  series  of  events  are  not 
delineated  in  detail;  they  are  merely  suggested.  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  they  do  not  go  contrary  to  the  principle  of 
Lessing.  In  the  method  of  imparting  the  suggestion,  there 
is  no  attempt  to  accomplish  the  impossible.  And  notice, 
again,  that  this  suggestion  is  the  source  not  only  of  the 
psychical  effect  produced  by  what  we  have  termed  sig- 
nificance, but  also  of  a certain  physical  effect,  which  we 
term  variously  force,  animation,  life,  or  virility.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  say,  therefore,  that  a suggestion  of  this  kind 
is  not  only  legitimate  in  paintings  and  statues,  but  essen- 
tial to  certain  characteristics  without  which  they  cannot 
manifest  the  highest  excellence. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


FORMS  OF  PAINTING  INTERPRETIVE  OF  THEIR  OWN 
SIGNIFICANCE. 

The  Possibility  of  Significance  and  the  Need  of  Explanation — Quantity  and 
Quality  of  Significance  as  Determining  Artistic  Excellence — Subjects  as 
Determining  the  Rank  of  Products — Execution  as  Determining  the 
Same — Flowers  and  Fruit — How  made  Representative  of  Significance — ■ 
Landscapes — How  made  Representative  of  Significance — How  still  more 
of  the  Human  Element  may  be  Introduced — Other  Examples — Figures 
and  Faces  of  Men — Portraits — Characteristic  Portraiture — Representa- 
tive of  the  Artist’s  Thought  and  Emotion — Ideal  Portraiture — Genre 
Paintings — Symbolical,  Allegorical,  and  Mythological  Paintings — His- 
torical Paintings — Examples. 


HE  final  paragraph  of  the  preceding  chapter  will 


suggest  two  questions  to  those  interested  in  the 
subject,  both  of  which  must  be  answered  before  this  can 
be  fully  understood.  One  question  concerns  the  possi- 
bilities of  significance,  and  the  other  those  of  explanation. 
It  may  very  naturally  be  asked  whether  all  appearances 
represented  in  painting  or  sculpture  can  be  made  signifi- 
cant in  themselves,  and  also  whether  all  explanations  de- 
pending upon  acquaintance  with  the  literature  of  a subject 
are  to  be  denied  legitimate  influence  in  securing  the 
aesthetic  effect. 

To  the  first  question — namely,  whether  all  appearances 
imitated  in  painting  or  sculpture  can  be  made  significant 
in  themselves,  one  can  only  give  the  answer  suggested  on 


254 


painting  as  interpreting  itself. 


255 


page  241.  They  certainly  can  be,  for  the  very  evident 
reason  that  the  mind  always  derives  some  thought  or 
emotion  from  every  perception  whatever.  The  general 
fact,  therefore,  of  a certain  degree  of  significance  must 
be  admitted.  What  is  denied  by  some  and  is  asserted 
here,  is  that  the  artist  has  it  in  his  power,  by  way  of  selec- 
tion and  arrangement  and  general  methods  of  imitation, 
to  increase  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  significance ; 
and  that  the  excellence  of  his  art  must  be  judged  by  the 
way  in  which  he  exercises  this  power. 

As  applied  to  the  subjects  represented,  for  instance,  do 
we  not  all  recognize  that  there  is  a difference  between 
these  ; and  that  this  determines  the  difference  in  the  rank 
of  art-works  ? Why  has  the  world  seldom,  if  ever,  as- 
signed the  same  rank  to  painters  of  merely  flowers  or 
fruits  or  even  of  landscapes,  that  it  has  assigned  to  those, 
like  Raphael,  Titian,  or  Rubens,  who  have  depicted  the 
human  figure?  Why  are  the  greatest  names  in  the  his- 
tory of  sculpture  those  whose  statues  are  of  men?  It  is 
as  difficult — not  only  so  but,  sometimes,  because  their  laws 
of  proportion  have  been  less  studied,  more  difficult — to 
model  the  forms  of  animals.  Evidently,  the  world  in 
general  judges  of  subjects  by  the  possibilities  of  signifi- 
cance in  them.  There  is  both  greater  opportunity  and 
necessity  for  manifesting  thought  and  emotion  in  connec- 
tion with  a landscape  than  with  a dish  of  fruit  or  a vase 
of  flowers ; and  in  connection  with  human  figures  than 
with  landscapes. 

This  statement  does  not  render  it  necessary  to  deny 
that  many  pictures  of  fruits  and  flowers  are  much  superior, 
as  works  of  art,  to  many  pictures  of  human  figures.  The 
theory  of  this  series  of  essays  is  that,  in  estimating  the 
quality  of  the  art,  one  must  always  consider  both  the  way 


256  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

in  which  it  represents  significance,  and  the  way  in  which 
it  represents  appearance  ; and  that  success  in  one  of  these 
regards  will  not  compensate  wholly  for  failure  in  the 
other  regard.  A painter  may  try  to  depict  human  figures 
and  produce  far  less  artistic  results  than  others  who  paint 
only  cabbages.  Indeed,  even  as  regards  the  significance 
suggested,  he  may  be  less  successful.  All  that  is  meant 
here  is  that,  in  case  of  equal  skill  in  the  imitation  of  form 
through  the  use  of  pencil,  brush,  or  chisel,  the  art-work 
ranks  highest  which  necessitates  and,  as  practically  applied 
to  the  product,  manifests  thought  and  emotion  of  the 
greatest  quantity  and  the  highest  quality.  Of  course, 
this  principle  enables  us  to  rank  as  subjects  not  only 
flowers  and  fruit  below  landscapes,  and  landscapes  below 
human  figures,  but  to  rank  below  others  certain  products 
belonging  to  paintings  of  each  class.  In  the  latter  mode 
of  ranking,  however,  it  is  not  the  subject  that  causes  the 
difference,  but  the  particular  treatment  of  it.  Let  us  con- 
sider, now,  how  subjects  of  the  same  general  character 
may  be  ranked  differently  according  to  the  way  in  which 
the  treatment  affects  the  quantity  and  quality  of  signifi- 
cance. 

First  of  all,  flowers  in  a vase,  oranges,  grapes,  or  apples 
in  a dish,  or  wine  or  beer  in  a glass, — all  these  may  be 
portrayed  so  artistically  as  to  be  exceedingly  beautiful 
and  worthy  of  a place  in  the  foremost  galleries.  But  it  is 
easy  to  perceive  that  the  appeal  of  the  picture  as  a thing 
of  significance  may  be  differently  determined  by  different 
circumstances.  A man,  brought  up  where  flowers  and 
fruit  abound,  if  living  temporarily  in  Greenland,  or  where 
he  cannot  get  them,  will  probably  find  the  picture  more 
significant  than  one  who  has  never  been  familiar  with 
them  or  is  living  where  he  is  not  deprived  of  them.  But 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF. 


257 


what  have  such  conditions  to  do,  it  may  be  asked,  with 
the  picture  ? Are  they  not  wholly  extraneous  to  it?  No, 
not  necessarily.  It  is  possible  for  the  artist  to  embody  in 
the  picture  the  principle  underlying  these  conditions,  and 
thus  to  make  the  picture  itself  significant  of  them  or  of 
some  similar  conditions. 

For  instance,  a vase  of  flowers  represented  as  being  in 
a room  upon  the  sill  of  a closed  window,  beyond  which, 
outside  the  house,  can  be  seen  snowdrifts  and  frost-laden 
trees  ; or  fruits  and  viands  represented  as  being  heaped 
upon  a table  notwithstanding  a half-empty  plate  and  glass 
and  an  unfolded  napkin  giving  evidence  that  some  one 
has  already  partaken  of  all  that  he  wishes,  with,  perhaps, 
a window  near  by,  through  which  a half-starved  face  of  a 
child  is  wistfully  peering, — arrangements  like  these,  or 
hundreds  of  a similar  character,  which  might  be  thought 
out  or  felt  out,  would  put  thought  and  emotion  into  the 
picture  ; and  thus  make  it  representative  of  these.  Can 
anybody  deny  that  pictures  thus  made  significant  by 
means  of  arrangement,  if  equally  well  executed,  would 
rank  higher  than  pictures  merely  imitative?  Notice,  too, 
that  in  the  degree  in  which  significance  is  thus  introduced 
into  a painting,  it  necessarily  calls  attention  to  something 
that  could  not  be  suggested  by  the  objects  if  depicted 
merely  as  they  exist  in  nature.  This  something  is  an 
effect  of  rearrangement  in  accordance  with  a mental  pur- 
pose. The  objects  as  reproduced  in  art  are  thus  made 
representative  of  the  artist,  of  man  ; and,  therefore,  it  is 
that,  in  a true  sense,  the  result  may  be  said  to  belong  to  the 
humanities.  If  we  could  imagine  a picture  in  which  the 
imitation  was  so  accurate  that  no  one  could  tell  the  dif- 
ference between  it  and  nature,  we  should  have  a result 
that,  on  the  surface,  would  not  reveal  itself  to  be  the 

17 


2 5 S PAINTI.XG , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


product  of  a man.  The  effect  would  be  indistinguishable 
from  that  of  nature.  But  art  is  different  from  nature  ; 
and,  interesting  and  desirable  as  is  success  in  imitation, 
clever  deception  is  not  synonymous  with  artistic  skill.  It 
must  not  be  forgotten  that,  beyond  imitation,  and  not  at 
all  interfering  with  it,  something  else  needs  to  be  super- 
imposed before  the  art-product  can  be  crowned  with  that 
which  is  indicative  of  its  having  a right  to  the  highest  rank. 

If  this  be  true  of  representations  of  fruits  and  of  flowers, 
it  must  be  still  more  true  of  those  of  natural  scenery.  It 
is  possible  for  a painter  to  imitate  the  outlines  and  colors 
of  scenes  that  he  sees  before  him,  without  reference  to 
any  consciousness  of  receiving  or  conveying  impressions 
of  thought  or  emotion  ’ in  connection  with  them.  Of 
course,  all  nature  has  some  effect  upon  the  mind,  whether 
or  not  one  is  distinctly  conscious  of  the  fact.  It  is  con- 
ceivable, therefore,  that  a picture  composed  with  no  higher 
purpose  than  that  of  exact  imitation  might  prove — just 
as  would  the  natural  scene  which  it  imitates — exceedingly 
significant.  Many  a man  who  desires  to  do  no. more  than 
tell  a good  story  in  a tale  or  a ballad  does  this  so  graphic- 
ally that  it  is  as  full  of  imaginative  suggestiveness  as  if  he 
had  intended  to  make  it  so.  The  same  result  follows  in 
landscape  painting.  The  art  of  a product  must  be  judged 
by  the  effect  which  it  produces,  not  by  the  method  of 
producing  this.  If  a painter  happen  to  select  a sugges- 
tive scene,  his  imitation  of  it  may  be  equally  suggestive. 
But  it  is  simply  a fact,  and  one  that  needs  always  to  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  notwithstanding  some  exceptional 
successes  of  this  kind,  no  story-teller  or  painter  can,  as  a 
rule,  produce  a series  of  successful  products  except  as  a 
result  of  an  intelligent  adaptation  of  artistic  means  to 
artistic  ends. 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF. 


259 


An  artist  who  has  recognized  the  elements  which  make 
a scene  suggestive  will  be  more  likely  to  select  these 
than  will  an  artist  who  has  not.  The  suggestions  naturally 
given  by  certain  predominating  sizes  and  shapes  have 
been  indicated  in  Chapters  III.  to  X.,  and  those  given  by 
certain  predominating  colors  in  Chapter  XI.  Now,  with 
what  has  just  been  said,  a glance  back  at  Fig.  17,  page43; 
or  18,  page  45,  or  32,  page  67,  or  33,  page  69,  will  reveal 
not  only  how  probable,  but  how  inevitable  it  is  that  every 
landscape  should  be  significant  of  some  phase  of  thought 
and  emotion.  Notice,  moreover,  that  in  the  degree  in 
which,  in  the  art-work,  the  factors  indicating  significance 
are  emphasized,  as  they  are,  for  instance,  in  Fig.  17,  page 
43,  or  152,  page  231, — in  that  degree,  attention  is  called 
both  to  that  which  the  external  world  naturally  suggests 
and,  also,  nor  any  less  distinctly,  to  that  which  the  artist, 
by  his  arrangements,  has  made  his  picture  of  it  suggest  ; 
or,  in  other  words,  to  human  thought  and  emotion,  and  it 
is  mainly  these  latter  that  make  such  a picture  rank  higher 
as  a work  of  the  humanities.  When  George  Inness  paints 
a winter  scene  with  the  dark  radiating  branches  of  the 
leafless  trees  in  silhouette  against  a background  of  snow, 
a large  part  of  our  interest  in  the  picture  comes  from  the 
impression  conveyed  to  us  that  the  artist  has  discovered, 
and  is  pointing  out  to  us,  elements  of  beauty  of  which  we 
have  never  before  thought,  and  which,  consequently,  we 
have  never  before  seen.  The  same  is  true  of  the  twilight 
effects  of  Corot. 

There  are  other  landscapes  in  which  the  human  element 
is  emphasized  still  more  decidedly.  This  is  not  to  say 
that  they  are,  therefore,  absolutely  better  or  greater.  The 
rank  of  a work  of  art  is  determined  not  only  by  its  aim, 
but  by  the  degree  in  which  it  attains  this  aim,  whatever  it 


260  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


may  be;  and  the  higher  the  aim,  the  more  difficult  often 
is  it  to  reach.  But  just  as  a drama,  if  successful,  is  greater 
than  a ballad,  so  a painting  in  which  the  representation  of 
thought  and  emotion  is  directly  necessitated,  is  greater 
than  one  in  which  this  is  not  the  case.  “The  Storm”  of 
Millet  (Fig.  152,  page  231)  is  not  a great  picture;  but  it 
deserves  a higher  rank  than  it  would  otherwise  deserve 
on  account  of  the  apparent  human  influence  which  has 
made  a unity  of  its  every  suggestion.  Even  aside  from 
the  additional  interest  that  may  be  imparted  by  explana- 
tions, the  same  may  be  affirmed,  too,  of  Rottmann’s  series 
of  encaustic  paintings  in  the  New  Pinakothek  in  Munich. 
These  represent  the  historic  sites  of  Greece  with  such  ar- 
rangements of  sun  and  cloud,  light  and  shade,  that,  in 
many  cases,  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  work  seems  a part 
of  the  associations  naturally  awakened  in  the  mind  by  the 
scenes  presented.  Ranking  higher  than  these,  are  the 
landscapes  of  Ruysdael.  In  his  “ Landscape  with  Water- 
fall ” in  the  National  Gallery  in  London,  the  ground,  trees, 
clouds,  and  atmosphere  seems  filled  with  water ; and  in 
his  “ Jewish  Cemetery  ” in  the  Dresden  Gallery  (Fig.  157, 
page  261)  the  profound  melancholy  of  the  whole  is  only 
heightened  by  the  contrasting  light  of  the  pale  sunbeam 
that  falls  upon  some  of  the  tombstones,  and  of  the  rain- 
bow in  the  rear.  All  things  else, — the  decaying  grave- 
stones, the  decaying  building,  the  decaying  tree,  barkless 
and  crooked  ; and,  not  only  these,  but  in  strict  analogy 
with  them,  the  clouds  and  water  too,  under  the  influence 
of  wind  and  current  are  all  absolutely  congruous  in  their 
effects.  Ranking  still  higher,  are  some  of  the  pictures  of 
Claude  and  Turner.  Ruskin  contrasts  the  two  painters  to 
the  disparagement  of  the  former.  But  the  crowning 
quality  in  each  of  them  is  really  the  same,  namely,  the 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF. 


261 


ability  to  represent  thought  and  emotion  through  the  rep- 
resentation of  nature.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  either, 
that  one  who  had  read  Ruskin,  seeing  for  the  first  time 
certain  pictures  of  Claude,  would  suppose  them  to  be 


FIG.  157.— JEWISH  CEMETERY.  J.  RUYSDAEL. 

See  page  260. 


Turner’s,  so  exactly  do  they  correspond  to  Ruskin’s  con- 
ceptions of  the  latter;  or  that  seeing  for  the  first  time 
certain  pictures  of  Turner,  he  would  suppose  them  to  be 


262  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Claude’s.  To  illustrate  equally  what  has  been  said  of  both, 
in  Claude’s  “ Morning”  in  the  Dresden  Gallery,  we  have 
represented  not  only  in  a yellow  sky  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
but  suggestions  of  the  dawning  or  beginning  of  many  other 
things — as  for  instance,  in  a lake,  the  beginning  of  a river  ; 
in  a shepherd  playing  on  his  pipe,  the  beginning  of  music  ; 
in  a maid  sitting  beside  him,  the  beginning  of  romance; 
in  a basket,  as  yet  unopened,  covered  with  a white  cloth, 
as  well  as  in  another  maid,  drawing  water  from  a well,  the 
beginning  of  social  feasting;  in  a castle  built  in  an  early 
style,  the  beginning  of  art  or  architecture  ; in  a city 
faintly  seen  at  a distance,  the  beginning  of  civilization  ; 
in  a group  called  the  Holy  Family,  because  of  its  resem- 
blance to  this,  as  conventionally  depicted,  the  beginning 
of  religion.  A similar  unity  of  effect  is  also  apparent  in 
Wouverman’s  “Cavalry  Charge”  in  the  same  gallery 
where  not  only  smoke  and  clouds  but  falling  soldiers, 
burning  castles,  and  men  and  horses  all  seem  to  be  under 
the  influence  of  the  same  conception  of  destruction. 

The  methods  of  suggesting  thought  and  emotion  no- 
ticed in  these  last  two  pictures,  involves  the  introduction 
of  living  figures.  This  brings  us  to  that  department  of 
painting  in  which  the  necessity  of  planning  for  signifi- 
cance is  most  unmistakable.  Of  living  figures,  first  of  all, 
perhaps,  ought  to  be  mentioned  animals.  That  these 
may  be  made  to  represent  significance  needs  no  proof  to 
any  one  who  has  seen  any  of  the  typical  pictures  of  Land- 
seer (Fig.  158,  page  263).  There  are  those  who  object  to 
his  way  of  indicating  correspondences  between  the  expres- 
sions and  positions  of  dumb  beasts  and  of  human  beings 
placed  in  similar  circumstances.  But  the  fact  remains 
that  he  introduces  the  significance  at  which  he  aims 
with  no  detriment  to  his  imitative  effects.  His  dogs  are 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF.  2 63 

real  dogs  ; and,  besides  this,  no  one  can  deny  that  his  suc- 
cess in  making  them  expressive  of  thought  and  feeling 
has  added  greatly  to  the  characteristics  making  them 
interesting  and  charming;  and  this  to  those,  too,  who  are 
qualified  to  judge  of  them  as  works  of  art.  Usually,  how- 


158.— dignity  AND  IMPUDENCE.  LANDSEER. 

See  pages  262,  263. 

ever,  the  forms  of  animals,  as  well  as  of  inanimate  nature, 
are  rendered  significant  most  effectively  when  presented  in 
connection  with  the  forms  of  human  beings,  as  in  Figs.  22, 
page  50;  35,  page  72  ; and  94,  page  152. 

We  now  come  to  the  faces  and  figures  of  men.  Of 


264  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

course,  it  is  easy  enough  to  perceive  how  pictures  of  cer- 
tain of  them  should  represent  significance.  But  it  is 
not  clear  that  to  do  this  is  possible,  or  even  desirable, 
for  all  such  pictures;  or  that  their  rank  should  be  deter- 
mined by  the  degree  in  which  they  attain  this  end.  In 
what  sense,  for  instance,  can  a portrait  of  one  whom  we 
have  not  known,  or  the  supposed  portrait  of  some  historic 
or  mythologic  personage,  be  made  to  tell  its  own  story, 
or  enough  of  a story  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  interest? 
IIovv  could  either  be  made  of  interest  aside  from  that 
which  would  fall  under  the  general  head,  as  we  have  in- 
terpreted it,  of  explanation  ? 

Let  us  try  to  answer  this  question.  Some  portraits 
are  certainly  not  interesting  at  all  aside  from  what  we 
know  of  the  persons  whom  they  are  intended  to  portray. 
They  may,  too,  be  good  portraits.  But,  according  to  the 
theory  of  this  book,  they  are  not  portraits  of  the  highest 
rank.  These  are  interesting  in  themselves,  interesting  as 
pictures,  aside  from  any  resemblance  to  particular  per- 
sons. Take  the  famous  “Blue  Boy”  of  Gainsborough— 
nothing  but  a full-length  picture  of  a very  pretty  boy. 
How  many  care  to  know,  before  admiring  it  fully,  whose 
portrait  it  is?  Aside  from  any  knowledge  of  this,  or  of 
the  family  to  whom  he  belonged,  who  would  not  like  to 
have  it  hanging  always  where  he  could  see  it  ? Why  ? 
Because  it  is  typical  of  beautiful  and  graceful  boyhood 
wherever  it  exists  ; and  as  such  appeals  by  way  of  associ- 
ation and  comparison  to  the  thought  and  emotion  of 
every  one.  who  has  ever  been  a father,  mother,  sister, 
brother,  or  friend  of  youth.  Or  take  Sargent’s  portrait 
called  “ Little  Marjorie,”  which  was  in  a recent  “ Loan 
Exhibition  ” of  New  York.  Could  not  precisely  the  same 
be  affirmed  of  it?  It  is  not  interest  in  the  particular 
person  represented  that  causes  us  to  enjoy  this  picture, 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF. 


265 


but  our  interest  in  humanity  in  general.  Or  take  any  of 
the  smaller  Madonnas  of  Raphael.  They  appeal  to  uni- 
versal sympathy  because  they  are  typical  of  motherhood 
and  childhood  everywhere.  If  the  faces  were  ugly,  to 
tell  us  that  they  represent  the  Virgin  and  her  child  would 
not  make  them  appear  beautiful  or  attractive  ; although, 
doing  this,  the  explanation  might  enhance  our  interest  in 
them.  The  same  is  true  of  historic,  symbolic,  and  alle- 
goric paintings.  Who,  that  has  had  much  experience  in 
picture  galleries  has  not  been  annoyed  by  the  persistence 
of  some  in  asking  for  explanations  of  every  painting  of 
this  kind  the  moment  that  they  set  eyes  upon  it.  No 
picture  has  the  highest  merit  that  cannot,  of  itself,  inter- 
pret itself — sufficiently,  at  least,  to  make  it  of  some 
aesthetic  interest.  One  can  find  enough  to  admire  in 
Kaulbach’s  “ Destruction  of  Jerusalem  ” without  any  clear 
conception  of  what  is  its  whole  intent.  In  its  right  fore- 
ground, for  instance,  is  a group  of  parents  and  children. 
We  know  that  they  are  beautiful,  and  are  escaping  from 
the  general  catastrophe.  By  way  of  explanation,  it  has 
been  said  that  the  group  represents  the  Holy  Family.  But 
it  is  a question  whether  any  spectator  ever  experienced 
much  increase  of  aesthetic  pleasure  on  account  merely  of 
this  explanation.  The  picture  is  supposed  to  be  sym- 
bolical, but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  as  a picture,  it 
is  a success  in  the  degree  in  which  of  itself  it  tells  some 
part,  at  least,  of  an  interesting  story.  The  same  may  be 
affirmed  of  Guido’s  “Aurora,”  Fig.  34,  page  71.  To  one 
having  no  knowledge  of  the  myth  upon  which  it  is 
founded,  the  graceful  beauty  and  vivacity  of  the  horses, 
the  driver,  and  the  encircling  maidens  are  of  themselves 
sufficient  to  awaken  a very  great  deal  of  aesthetic  admira- 
tion and  enjoyment. 

But  to  go  back  to  portraits.  By  the  exercise  of  a little 


266  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


brain-work  it  is  always  possible,  in  picturing  a person,  to 
introduce  something  which,  without  verbal  interpretation, 
will  represent,  and  enable  the  mind  to  recognize,  his  char- 
acter. This  causes  what  is  termed  ideal  portraiture.  Thus 
Long  in  “ Art,  its  Laws  and  the  Reasons  for  them,” 
tells  us  that  Reynolds,  in  his  portrait  of  General  Elliot, 
the  British  commander  at  Gibraltar  in  the  year  when  it 
was  attacked  by  the  combined  French  and  Spanish  force, 
represents  him  in  his  military  uniform  with  a key  in  his 
hands,  indicative  of  the  fact  that  the  citadel  was  the  key 
of  the  Mediterranean  ; while,  in  the  distance,  two  squad- 
rons engaged  in  battle,  and  behind  him  a cannon  pointed 
downward,  suggest  the  severity  of  the  contest  and  the 
height  of  the  fortress.  It  probably  would  have  been 
better  to  have  said  that  the  keys  were  intended  to  rep- 
resent the  general’s  holding  the  fortress  and  not  sur- 
rendering its  keys,  rather  than  to  represent  the  fortress  as 
the  key  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  latter  conception  seems 
to  involve  that  of  an  embodied  pun.  Otherwise  the  de- 
scription of  the  portrait  is  worth  noticing.  Observe,  too, 
in  this  connection  Macmonnies’  statue  of  Nathan  Hale 
in  the  City  Hall  Park,  New  York  (Fig.  159,  page  267).  Can 
any  one  fail  to  recognize  how  largely  its  excellence  is 
determined  by  the  way  in  which  it  tells  its  own  story — 
that  of  the  spy,  when  bound  for  execution,  manifesting  the 
spirit  expressed  in  the  words,  “ 1 only  regret  that  I have 
but  one  life  to  give  for  my  country.”  More  realistic,  but 
faithful  to  a true  conception  of  the  character  represented, 
is  St.  Gaudens’  statue  of  Farragut  on  Madison  Square, 
New  York.  But  why  was  it  not  mounted  on  a realistic 
pedestal? — something  to  show  the  connection  between 
the  man  and  a ship,  instead  of  an  attempt  at  symbolism 
not  in  keeping  with  what  is  above  it.  Even  the  symbol- 
ism, too,  in  the  circumstances,  really  means  nothing. 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF.  267 


Had  the  Americans 
believed  in  sea- 
nymphs  or  mer- 
maids, and  had  the 
Admiral  been 
drowned  at  sea,  it 
might  be  different ; 
but  as  it  is,  its  lack 
of  appropriateness 
was,  perhaps,  never 
so  well  paralleled  as 
by  the  almost  uni- 
versal chorus  of 
commendation  that 
greeted  it  in  the 
American  art-jour- 
nals when  it  was 
first  unveiled. 

The  principle  un- 
derlying what  has 
been  said,  is  that  the 
artist  with  the  brains 
to  perceive  the 
thoughts  and  emo- 
tions suggested  by 
the  character  of  a 
subject  for  portrait- 
ure and  the  skill  to 
embody  them  in  his 
product,  can  make 
it  representative  of 
these.  As  was 
shown  in  the  cases, 
too,  of  fruits  and  FIQ'  159-STATUE  0F  NATHAN  HALE-  macmonnies. 

See  pages  266,  281. 


268  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

landscapes,  he  can  make  it  representative  not  only  of 
the  thoughts  and  emotions  ascribable  to  the  person 
portrayed,  but  often  too  of  those  ascribable  to  him- 
self. To  illustrate  how  this  may  be  done  : Some  years 
ago,  there  was  a picture  in  one  of  the  New  York  exhi- 
bitions, entitled  “ Flowers  for  the  Hospital.”  It  con- 
tained the  figure  of  a young  girl  with  flowers  in  her 
hand — nothing  more.  If,  in  the  background,  at  the  end 
of  the  path  along  which  the  girl  was  walking,  there 
had  been  represented,  however  faintly,  a hospital  having 
patients  seated  in  front  of  it,  or  sick  faces  gazing  out  of 
an  open  window — anything  of  this  sort  to  tell  the  story, 
then,  whatever  there  was  in  the  face  of  the  chief  figure  to 
indicate  the  destination  of  the  flowers  would  have  had 
some  meaning.  Moreover,  in  this  case,  the  picture  would 
have  really  meant  “ Flowers  for  the  Hospital,”  and  its 
subject  would  have  been  recognized  without  any  label 
attached  to  it,  in  order,  in  an  unsuccessful  way,  to  make 
up  for  its  lack  in  composition.  Indeed,  if  well  executed, 
a picture  composed  as  has  been  indicated,  and,  in  this 
case,  merely  because  of  its  additional  representation  of 
significance — might  have  had  in  it  the  qualities  of  great- 
ness ; whereas,  the  title  “ Flowers  for  the  Hospital  ” with 
the  poverty  of  invention  displayed,  made  this  out  of  the 
question. 

But  notice  now  other  possibilities  in  this  same  picture 
by  way  of  portraiture.  Suppose  that,  taking  a suggestion 
from  the  well  known  features  of  Florence  Nightingale, 
the  painter,  as  justified  by  her  appearance  in  mature  life, 
had  idealized  her  supposed  youthful  appearance,  and 
called  his  picture  “ Florence  Nightingale  in  Youth.”  The 
composition  of  the  picture,  even  to  those  who  had  never 
heard  of  Florence  Nightingale,  would  still  have  indicated 
“ Flowers  for  the  Hospital.”  But  can  any  one  fail  to 


painting  as  interpreting  itself.  269 

recognize  that,  to  those  acquainted  with  her  character, 
the  poetic  associations  necessarily  attaching  themselves 
to  the  added  significance,  might  have  enabled  the  painting 
to  attain  a very  high  rank,  impossible  in  other  circum- 
stances? Notice,  too,  that  this  rank  would  have  been 
attained,  just  as  is  the  case  in  every'  art,  because  this 
added  significance  would  have  been  plainly  attributable, 
not  to  the  subject  of  the  picture  as  perceived  in  nature, 
but  to  the  picture  itself  as  conceived  by  the  artist.  In 
accordance  with  this  analogy,  it  may  be  said  that  when 
any  portrait  is  to  be  painted,  that  of  which  the  great 
artist  thinks  is  not  merely  outline  and  color,  but  the 
thoughts  and  emotions  which  outline  and  color,  in  the 
particular  face  before  him,  can  be  made  to  suggest.  He 
asks  what  is  the  character,  and  what  is  the  influence  upon 
the  mind,  of  the  particular  character  that  is  to  be  por- 
trayed. Take  a boy.  If  he  be  athletic  in  his  tendencies, 
his  character  may  be  best  brought  out  by  standing  him  up 
in  a lawn-tennis  suit  with  a racket  in  his  hand  : if  studious, 
by  sitting  him  down  with  a book.  In  both  cases,  the 
pose  can  be  made  to  tell  its  own  story.  In  the  latter  case, 
if  he  be  gazing  up  from  his  book  with  a dreamy,  far-away 
look  in  his  eyes,  the  picture,  though  a portrait,  may  be 
made  to  have  all  the  interest  that  might  attach  to  an 
idealization  named  “ The  Young  Newton,”  or  “ The 
Young  Scott  ” ; and,  no  matter  whose  boy  it  may  be, 
he  will  seem  interesting  to  every  one.  What  makes  any 
portrait  the  opposite,  is  less  the  fact  that  the  person  por- 
trayed is  uninteresting,  than  the  fact  that  the  artist  has 
not  had  enough  penetration  to  discover  what  the  traits 
are  that  are  interesting,  uniformly  and  universally  ; or 
the  ingenuity  to  extract  them  from  their  lurking-places 
and  reveal  and  emphasize  them. 

Now  let  us  turn  to  products  that  have  nothing  to  do 


2/0  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

with  portraiture,  and  first  to  genre  paintings,  i.  e.,  paint- 
ings of  ordinary  domestic  life.  It  is  with  reference  to 
these,  mainly,  that  we  hear  the  adverse  criticism,  in  case 
they  indicate  an  endeavor  to  suggest  a story,  that  they 
are  “ literary.”  The  inappropriateness  of  the  term,  as  fre- 
quently used,  was  pointed  out  on  page  252,  as  well  as  the 
fact  that  suggesting  a story  does  not  involve  a violation  of 
the  principle  of  Lessing,- — to  the  effect  that  a painting 
should  not  treat  of  subjects  necessitating  a portrayal  of 
events  taking  place  at  different  periods  of  time.  A story 
may  be  most  effectively  indicated,  without  any  attempt  to 
picture  what  cannot  be  supposibly  seen  at  a single  moment. 
Notice,  for  instance,  Caravaggio’s  “Card  Players”  from 
the  Dresden  Gallery,  Fig.  160,  page  271.  Here  we  see 
cards  and  money  on  a table.  Seated  at  one  side  of  this 
is  a man  with  a dishonest  face.  On  the  other  side  of  it, 
playing  with  him,  is  another  man  with  an  innocent  face, 
evidently  just  the  one  to  be  made  a dupe.  Behind  this 
last  man,  looking  over  his  shoulder,  stands  a third,  muffling 
his  breath  to  prevent  his  presence  from  being  detected,  and 
holding  up  two  fingers  to  let  the  first  player  know  what 
cards  are  being  played  by  the  second.  It  would  be  im- 
possible by  any  verbal  explanation  to  increase  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  story  thus  indicated  by  the  mere  appearance 
of  the  figures.  Notice,  again,  H.  Stacy  Marks’  “Author 
and  Critics  ” (Fig.  29,  page  63).  The  postures  and  faces 
in  this  indicate  at  once,  and  better  than  words  could,  pre- 
cisely what  the  whole  means, — the  author’s  self-satisfied 
enthusiasm,  as  well  as  the  humiliation  that  may  await  him 
if  by-and-by,  when  he  comes  to  a pause,  his  hearers  begin 
to  have  their  say.  Notice,  too,  Fig.  161,  page  273,  a pic- 
ture which  was  in  the  Chicago  Columbian  Exhibition  and 
is  used  here  by  kind  permission  of  its  owner,  Mr.  Charles  T. 


PAINTING  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF.  2JI 

Yerkes.  No  man  can  affirm  that  the  painter  of  the 
picture,  Van  Beers,  disregards  the  requirements  of  ex- 
ecution. But,  for  all  that,  one  cannot  look  at  it  long, 
without  having  his  attention  drawn  to  its  significance,  a 
significance,  too,  that,  at  once  suggests  its  source  in  the 
artist’s  own  inventive  brain.  A fashionable  woman  of  the 
world  has  left  her  carriage  in  charge  of  her  coachman  and 


FIG.  160.— CARD  PLAYERS.  CARAVAGGIO. 
See  pages  169,  172,  270. 


footman  and  has  seated  herself  in  the  park  on  a bench 
large  enough  for  two.  She  is  apparently  waiting  for  some- 
thing, probably  for  some  one.  Who  is  it?  Of  whom  is 
she  thinking  ? What  is  the  ideal  enthroned  over  her 
reverie?  Just  above  her  is  a statue  of  a man  without 
a head,  but  holding,  where  his  mouth  should  be,  a 


2 72  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


flute.  Why  so  ? Think  a moment.  Is  he  not  just  what 
such  a woman  would  want  ? — such  a man  without  a head 
who  nevertheless  is  ready  to  pipe  for  her?  Where  is  the 
representation  of  time  in  this  picture?  Yet  it  outlines  a 
story  as  clearly  and  completely  as  one  of  Heine’s  lyrics. 

What  was  said  on  page  248,  of  Raphael's  “ School  of 
Athens”  (Fig.  156,  page  249),  as  also  of  Kaulbach’s 
“ Reformation,”  and,  on  page  265  of  the  latter’s  “ Destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem,”  and  of  Guido’s  “Aurora”  (Fig.  34, 
page  71),  will  illustrate  sufficiently  for  our  purposes  in 
what  way  mythologic , symbolic , or  allegoric  paintings,  while 
picturing  appearances  not  conceivably  perceptible,  either 
at  any  one  time,  or  at  all,  except  in  imagination,  may, 
nevertheless,  be  so  composed  as,  without  the  aid  of  a 
verbal  explanation  to  awaken  sufficient  aesthetic  interest. 
How  they  may  do  this  may  be  well  illustrated  in  a paint- 
ing which  should  be  classed  with  the  ones  just  mentioned, 
because  it  attempts  to  make  visible  what  in  reality  is  not 
so.  This  painting  is  “ The  Dream  ” by  Detaille,  Fig.  162 
page  275.  The  representation  at  once  interprets  itself. 
It  does  so,  moreover,  in  the  way  which  has  already  many 
times  been  said  to  be  characteristic  of  art  of  the  highest 
rank,  namely,  by  calling  attention  not  merely  to  sig- 
nificance in  general,  but  to  the  particular  significance 
added  to  the  scene  by  the  artist  who  painted  it.  Look- 
ing at  the  picture,  we  recognize  that,  in  a distinctive 
sense,  he  has  used  the  actual  appearances  of  nature 
for  the  purpose  of  manifesting  thoughts  and  emotions 
originated  in  his  own  mind.  Partaking  of  the  same 
general  characteristics,  though  with  features  allying  it  to 
historical  painting,  is  the  “ Dream  of  Jacob,”  by  Bol, 
which  may  be  seen  in  the  Dresden  Gallery.  In  this,  the 
light  descending  in  a broad  ray  from  heaven  falls  upon 


2?3  FIG.  161.— A SUMMER  EVENING.  VAN  BEERS. 


2/4  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AATD  ARCHITECTURE. 

the  ear  of  Jacob,  whose  hood,  at  the  same  time,  is  pulled 
away  from  it  by  an  attendant  cherub.  The  patriarch, 
though  slumbering,  has  an  expression  indicative  of  much 
interest,  and  an  angel  standing  over  him  seems  to  be  im- 
parting to  him  a blessing. 

Under  the  head  of  historical  paintings  are  usually 
ranked  those  in  which  main  emphasis  is  given  to  the 
depicting  of  events  rather  than  of  the  actors  in  these, 
though  often  the  depicting  of  the  one  necessitates  that  of 
the  other,  and,  often  too,  an  employment  of  real  or  ideal 
protraiture.  As  will  be  observed,  the  line  of  demarka- 
tion  between  historical  paintings  and  those  that  are 
mythological,  symbolical,  or  allegorical  is  not  always 
clearly  definable.  So  far  as  concerns  details,  there  is  little 
difference  between  the  way  in  which  characters  would  be 
related  in  a painting  bordering  as  closely  upon  the 
symbolical  as  Kaulbach’s  “Destruction  of  Jerusalem” 
and  in  a strictly  historical  painting  of,  say,  “ The  Burning  of 
Moscow.”  Historical  paintings  are  those  in  connection 
withwhich  dependence  upon  averbal  explanation  is  consid- 
ered to  be  most  excusible.  How  can  we  understand  them, 
is  asked,  unless  we  understand  the  historical  facts  which 
they  depict  ? Let  us  try  to  answer  this  question.  Observe 
Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  8,  page  31.  In  this,  with- 
out knowing  anything  about  the  gladiatorial  exhibitions 
of  ancient  Rome,  any  one  can  perceive,  at  a glance,  that 
there  has  been  a public  contest  ; that  the  contestant, 
who  has  been  thrown  to  the  ground,  is  in  danger  of 
losing  his  life  ; that  he  is  holding  up  his  hand  with  a sign 
which  we  recognize  to  be  an  appeal  to  the  people  to  have 
him  saved  ; and  we  know,  too,  that  the  majority  of  the 
spectators  do  not  wish  to  have  him  saved,  the  ferocity  of 
their  countenances  interpreting  the  meaning  of  the  sign 


FIQ.  162.— THE  DREAM.  DETAILLE. 


276  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

which  they  make  with  their  hands,  still  more  than  does 
the  fact  that  this  sign  is  the  opposite  of  the  one  made  by 
the  fallen  victim.  Or  observe,  again,  Rubens’  “ Descent 
from  the  Cross,”  Fig.  163,  page  277.  Though  we  knew 
nothing  of  the  story  of  the  crucifixion,  we  should  be 
aware  that  those  in  the  foreground  were  taking  down 
from  a cross,  on  which  he  had  been  put  to  death,  the  form 
of  one  whom  they  all  loved  and  revered.  An  analogous 
fact  can  be  affirmed  of  Paul  Veronese’s  “ Adoration  of  the 
Magi,”  Fig.  35,  page  72.  Though  we  were  not  acquainted 
with  the  story  of  the  Holy  Child,  we  should  perceive,  with- 
out asking  any  questions,  that,  for  some  reason,  he  was 
the  centre  of  interest  for  both  man  and  beast. 

Nicolas  Poussin’s  “ Woman  Taken  in  Adultery  ” (Fig. 
80,  page  139)  needs  somewhat  more  explanation  ; and 
Raphael’s  “ Sacrifice  at  Lystra  ” (Fig.  164,  page  279), 
though  its  interest  is  by  no  means  independent  of  ex- 
planations, is  worth  examining  in  connection  with  the 
following  description  by  Opie  in  the  second  of  his  “ Lec- 
tures upon  Design.”  According  to  this  cartoon,  he  says, 
the  inhabitants  of  Lystra  were  “ about  to  offer  divine 
honors  to  Paul  and  Barnabas,  and  it  was  necessary  that 
the  cause  of  this  extraordinary  enthusiasm — the  restoring 
the  limb  of  a cripple — should  be  explained,  which  to  any 
powers  less  than  those  under  consideration  would  perhaps 
have  been  insurmountable,  for  this  reason  that  painting, 
having  only  the  choice  of  a single  moment  of  time,  if  we 
take  the  instant  before  the  performance  of  the  miracle 
how  can  we  show  that  it  ever  took  place,  if  we  adopt  the 
instant  after,  how  shall  it  appear  that  the  man  had  ever 
been  a cripple  ? Raphael  has  chosen  the  latter  ; and  by 
throwing  his  now  useless  crutches  on  the  ground,  giving 
him  the  uncertain  and  swaggering  attitude  of  a man  ac- 


FIQ.  163.— THE  DESCENT  FROM  THE  CROSS.  RUBENS. 
See  pages  202,  276,  2S7. 


277 


278  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


customed  to  support,  and  still  in  some  degree  doubtful 
of  his  newly  acquired  power,  and  by  the  uncommon 
eagerness  with  which  he  makes  his  address  to  his  bene- 
factors, points  out  both  his  gratitude  and  the  occasion  of 
it;  and,  still  further,  to  do  away  with  any  remnant  of  am- 
biguity, he  introduces  a man  of  respectable  appearance, 
who,  lifting  up  a corner  of  the  patient’s  drapery,  surveys 
with  unfeigned  astonishment  the  newly  and  perfectly 
formed  limb,  in  which  he  is  also  joined  by  others  of  the 
bystanders.  Such  a chain  of  circumstances,  as  Webb  justly 
observes,  equal  to  a narration  in  clearness,  and  infinitely 
superior  in  force,  would  have  done  honor  to  the  inventor 
in  the  happiest  era  of  painting  in  Greece.” 


FIG.  164— THE  SACRIFICE  AT  LYSTRA.  RAPHAEL. 

See  pages  158,  276,  287. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


FORMS  OF  SCULPTURE  INTERPRETIVE  OF  THEIR  OWN 
SIGNIFICANCE:  THE  FUNCTION  OF  EXPLANATIONS. 

Differences  between  the  Subjects  of  Painting  and  Sculpture — Portraiture  in 
Sculpture — Poetic  Description  of  the  Dying  Gladiator — The  Laocoon 
— Symbolic,  Allegoric,  Religious,  Mythologic,  and  Historic  Sculpture 
— Verbal  Explanations  as  an  Aid  to  Artistic  Effect — Have  the  Same  Re- 
lation to  Painting  and  Sculpture  as  to  Music — The  Interest  and  Attrac- 
tiveness of  Things  Seen  is  Increased  by  our  Knowledge  with  Reference 
to  them — The  Same  Principle  Applies  to  Things  Depicted  in  Art. 


LMOST  everything  said  in  the  preceding  chapter 


with  reference  to  painting  applies  also  to  sculpture. 
But  there  are  certain  differences  between  the  two  arts, 
which  make  necessary  a few  words  with  reference  to  the 
representation  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the  latter. 
Sculpture  seldom  attains  high  rank  except  when  it  repro- 
duces the  human  form.  Nor,  even  when  it  does  this,  are 
any  effects  used  other  than  those  possible  to  shape,  the 
employment  of  imitative  color  being,  at  present,  uni- 
versally prohibited.  For  this  reason,  as  Flaxman  says  in 
his  “ Lectures  upon  Sculpture,”  “ The  gray  solemn  tint 
of  stone,  the  beautifully  semi-transparent  purity  of  mar- 
ble, the  golden  splendor  or  corroding  dark  green  of  bronze,” 
should  cause  the  sculptor  “ to  reject  as  incongruous 
all  subjects  the  characters  of  which  have  not  some  dignity 
and  elevation.  The  awful  simplicity  of  those  formswhose 
eyes  have  neither  color  nor  brilliancy,  and  whose  limbs 


SCULPTURE  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF.  28 1 

have  not  the  glow  of  circulation,  strikes  the  first  view  of 
the  beholder  as  of  beings  of  a different  order  from  himself. 
Angels,  spiritual  ministers,  embodied  virtues,  departed 
worthies,  the  patriot,  or  general  benefactor  shining  in  the 
splendor  of  his  deeds,  or  gloomy  and  consuming  memo- 
rials of  the  great  in  former  ages, — such  subjects  distinguish 
temples,  churches,  palaces,  courts  of  justice,  and  the  open 
squares  of  cities.  At  the  same  time  that  they  symbolize 
their  several  purposes,  they  may  be  comprehended  in 
three  classes, — the  sublime,  heroic,  and  tender.”  Among 
the  sublime,  he  would  probably  include  those  classed  as 
belonging  to  the  “grand  ” style  of  the  Greeks, — as  in 
Figs.  19,  page  47,  28,  page  62,  37,  page  76,  and  148,  page 
223  ; among  the  heroic,  he  would  probably  include  such 
statues  as  are  in  Figs.  I,  page  20,  21,  page  49;  and  among 
the  tender  such  as  are  in  Figs.  20,  page  48,  38,  page  77, 
and  149,  page  224. 

Aside  from  being  confined,  as  a rule,  to  the  more  dig- 
nified and  elevated  types  of  the  human  form,  the  subjects 
of  sculpture  do  not  differ  essentially  from  those  of  paint- 
ing. First  of  all,  as  in  the  latter  art,  there  is  the  sculpture 
of  portraiture.  Attention  has  been  directed  already,  on 
page  266,  to  the  statue  of  Nathan  Hale  (Fig.  1 59,  page  267). 
Noticealso  the  portrait  statue  of  Titus  (Fig.  165,  page  282). 
Could  any  one,  looking  at  it,  doubt  the  character  or  the 
station  of  the  man  depicted?  We  have  noticed,  also,  on 
page  142,  the  significance  indicated  in  the  ideal  statue  in 
Fig.  38,  page  77,  as  well  as  on  page  1 58,  that  indicated  in  the 
statue  in  Fig.  95,  page  157.  Indeed,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
whole  discussion  in  chapters  VII.  to  IX.  inclusive,  ample 
treatment  of  this  phase  of  representation  in  sculpture  will 
be  found  in  almost  every  part  of  this  book.  Notice  the 
pages  referred  to  under  Figs.  19,  page  47;  20,  page  48; 


282  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

37>  PaSe  76;  83,  page  144;  149,  page  224;  and  148,  page  223. 
An  appeal  to  human  sympathy  has  often  been  pointed 
out  as  characterizing  the  statue  in  the  Capitol  at  Rome, 
called  “The  Dying  Gladiator,”  though  the  best  authority 
now  considers  it  to  be  a “ Dying  Galatian,”  or  “ Gaul,” 

the  work  of  a superior 
school  of  art  which 
flourished  between 
150  and  200  B.C.  at 
Pergamum,  a Greek 
city  of  Asia  Minor, 
which,  about  this 
time,  was  successful 
in  wars  against  the 
Galatians.  Of  this 
statue,  Jarvis,  in  his 
“ Art  Idea,”  says  : 
“ It  is  an  incarnation 
of  the  spirit  of  the  uni- 
versal brotherhood  of 
men  in  their  common 
heritage  of  suffering 
and  death.  A man 
dying  by  blood-drops 
from  a stab.  A simple 

FIG.  165.— STATUE  OF  TITUS,  IN  THE  LOUVRE.  ail<^  COmmOll  Subject; 

See  page  281.  yet  how  beautiful  and 

suggestive  the  treat- 
ment ! . . . Criticism  is  absorbed  in  sympathy,  and 

the  fear  or  pain  of  death  in  the  spirit’s  retrospection  of 
life  and  inquiring  gaze  into  futurity.  Behold  a fellow 
being  prematurely  sent  by  a violent  death  to  the  mys- 
terious confines  of  eternity,  and  about  to  solve  the  com- 


FIQ.  166.— THE  DYING  GLADIATOR,  CALLED  ALSO  A DYING  GALATIAN  OR  GAUL. 

See  pages  282,  283. 


284  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


mon  problem  of  life,  whose  evils  have  been  to  him  so 
prolific  a heritage.  God  aid  him  ! ” 

It  may  be  interesting,  also,  to  compare  with  the  statue 
the  thoughts  and  emotions  suggested,  by  the  supposition 
that  it  was  a dying  gladiator,  to  the  poet  Byron: 

I see  before  me  the  Gladiator  lie  ; 

He  leans  upon  his  hand — his  manly  brow 
Consents  to  death  but  conquers  agony, 

And  his  drooped  head  sinks  gradually  low — 

And  through  his  side,  the  last  drops  ebbing  slow 
From  the  red  gash,  fall  heavy,  one  by  one, 

Like  the  first  of  a thunder-shower  ; and  now 
The  arena  swims  around  him — he  is  gone, 

Ere  ceased  the  inhuman  shout  which  hailed  the  wretch  who  won. 


He  heard  it  ; but  he  heeded  not — his  eyes 
Were  with  his  heart,  and  that  was  far  away. 

He  recked  not  of  the  life  he  lost,  nor  prize, 

But  where  his  rude  hut  by  the  Danube  lay, 

There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play. 

There  was  their  Dacian  mother — he  their  sire 
Butchered  to  make  a Roman  holiday. 

- — Childe  Harold. 


Could  anything  be  more  different  than  the  representa- 
tion of  stillness  in  the  statue  and  of  movement — the 
shifting  of  thought  from  one  thing  to  another — in  the 
poem  ? 

On  page  223  it  was  said  that  many  of  the  single  statues 
of  the  Greeks,  which  we  now  possess,  were  originally 
members  of  groups.  Some  of  these  groups  still  exist  en- 
tire. One  of  the  most  famous  of  them  is  the  “ Laocoon  ” 
(Fig.  21,  page  49),  the  statue  which  suggested  to  the 
German  critic  Lessing  the  famous  essay  of  the  same 


SCULPTURE  AS  INTERPRETING  ITSELF.  285 


name.  This  “ Laocoon,”  according  to  the  story,  was  a 
priest,  whose  sons  were  punished  with  him  for  a sin  which 
he  alone  had  committed.  The  writer  quoted  on  page  282, 
embodying  several  of  the  salient  characteristics  suggested 
by  Lessing,  says  of  this  statue  : “ There  is  in  the  father’s 

silent  appeal  to  heaven  for  his  sons’  escape  from  an  in- 
exorable fate,  and  the  pitiful  look  of  the  children  directed 
to  him  whose  sins  are  thus  visited  upon  them,  a moral 
beauty  which  overpowers  the  sense  of  physical  agony. 
We  perceive  the  awful  fate  impending,  and  are  spared  the 
absolute  rack  of  flesh  and  blood.  This  the  artist  would 
not  give.  He  does  not  permit  Laocoon  to  cry  aloud, 
though  one  can  anticipate  his  convulsive  sighs.  Hence 
our  feelings  are  moved  to  pity  and  admiration  by  his 
endurance,  without  being  disturbed  by  vehement  action, 
or  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  grand  being  marred  by 
the  writhings  of  bodily  anguish.  As  a whole,  the  concep- 
tion is  simple  and  lofty  . . . we  feel  that  a great  soul 

is  expiring  in  awful  torment,  and  teaching  the  world  a 
great  lesson,  particularly  if  we  view  the  group  in  its  sym- 
bolical sense  of  ‘sin  ’ or  the  throttler,  which  Max  Muller 
says  is  the  original  meaning,  or  root  of  its  name.  Spirit 
predominates.  Idea  and  object  are  identical,  and  true  art 
is  attained  . . . Much  of  the  character  of  this  group 

depends  upon  that  subtle  principle  of  repose,  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  best  antique  art  from  most  of  modern 
work.  Although  violent  and  convulsive  action  is  sug- 
gested by  the  nature  of  the  scene,  the  artist  has  so  skil- 
fully chosen  the  moment  of  execution,  that  we  feel,  above 
all  else,  its  deep  quiet  . . . the  victims  see  their 

doom  and  instinctively  prepare  to  resist  it,  even  though 
the  utter  inutility  of  resistance  is  manifest ; but  the  artist 
leaves  us,  in  their  joint  struggle,  a moral  suggestion  of 


2S6  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

hope,  the  angel  sister  of  sin,  to  lighten  the  otherwise  too 
painful  impression  upon  the  spectator;  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  all  this  is  given  by  the  skilful  seizing  of  the  exact 
instant  in  which  the  stillness  of  instinctive  preparation 
precedes  the  last  fearful  effort  of  tortured  nature  to 
escape  its  doom.” 

Again,  there  are  statues,  like  paintings,  which  are  de- 
signed to  be  symbolical , allegorical , or  mythological.  Of 
these,  the  “ Resurrection,”  Fig.  82,  page  143,  furnishes 
an  example.  So,  including  more  than  one  form,  does  Fig. 
22,  page  50,  a part  of  the  front  of  the  tomb  of  Maria  Chris- 
tina, a daughter  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  wife  of  Duke  Albert 
of  Saxe-Teschen.  This  tomb,  which  is  in  the  church  of 
the  Augustines  at  Vienna,  is  one  of  Canova’s  masterpieces. 
In  the  part  of  it  represented  in  Fig.  22,  a lion  and  an 
angel  are  weeping  and  keeping  guard  on  one  side  of  the 
entrance  of  the  vault,  the  lion  being  the  symbol  of  the 
royal  house,  and  the  angel  the  symbol  of  the  bereaved 
husband  ; or,  as  perhaps  might  better  be  said,  the  lion  as 
the  king  of  beasts  symbolizing  the  physical,  and  the  angel 
as  the  messenger  of  heaven  the  spiritual;  and  the  two 
together  the  sense  of  loss  as  to  both  physical  presence 
and  spiritual  communion.  Once  more,  there  is  historical 
sculpture.  Of  course,  the  general  character  of  this  cannot 
differ  greatly  from  that  of  historical  painting.  It  is 
evident  that  a composition  like  that  in  Fig.  23,  page  51, 
or  Fig.  155,  page  247,  would  be  subject  to  exactly  the 
same  laws  as  if  it  were  a painting. 

Thus  far,  an  answer  has  been  given  to  only  the  first 
question  asked  on  page  254,  to  wit,  whether  it  is  possible 
for  all  appearances  represented  in  painting  and  sculpture 
to  be  made  significant  in  themselves,  i.  e.,  aside  from  the 
aid  afforded  by  verbal  explanations.  But  what  has  been 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EXPLANATIONS. 


287 


said  has  suggested  also  the  appropriate  answer  to  the 
second  question,  to  wit,  whether  all  explanations  depend- 
ing upon  acquaintance  with  the  literature  of  a subject,  are 
to  be  denied  legitimate  influence  in  securing  the  aesthetic 
effect.  The  answer  is,  that  they  are  not.  For  this  the 
following  reason  could  be  given,  even  if  there  were  no 
other.  An  art-product  appeals  to  a man  as  distinguished 
from  an  animal.  If  so,  the  appeal  must  be  made  to  that 
which  distinguishes  him  from  the  animal.  This,  of  course, 
is  his  intellect,  together  with  the  character  and  amount  of 
intelligence  ascribable  to  it.  But  if  this  be  so,  an  increase 
of  intelligence  must  increase  his  capacity  for  recognizing 
the  appeal  of  art.  As  applied  to  a particular  art-product, 
an  increase  of  his  intelligence  with  reference  to  either  its 
form  or  subject,  must  increase  his  capacity  for  enjoying 
it.  Nor  need  it  make  any  essential  difference  whether 
this  intelligence  be  the  result  of  his  general  information, 
or  of  special  information  with  reference  to  the  object 
immediately  before  him,  such  as  he  can  derive  from  a 
guide  book.  A man  with  a knowledge  of  history,  how- 
ever derived,  will  certainly  take  more  interest  in  a paint- 
ing like  Raphael’s  “School  of  Athens”  (Fig.  156,  page 
249),  or  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso”  (Fig.  8,  page  31), 
than  will  one  ignorant  of  history ; and  a student  of  the 
Bible  will  take  more  interest  than  will  one  ignorant  of  it 
in  a painting  like  “The  Death  of  Ananias,”  Fig.  39,  page 
79;  “The  Woman  taken  in  Adultery,”  Fig.  80,  page 
1 39 ; “ Judas,  Peter,  and  John,”  Fig.  92,  page  150;  “The 
Descent  from  the  Cross,”  Fig.  163,  page  277;  or  “The 
Sacrifice  at  Lystra,”  Fig.  164,  page  279. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  explanations  accompanying 
a painting  or  a statue  as  was  said  at  the  end  of  Chapter 
VII.  of  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art  ” of  explanations 


288  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


printed  on  a musical  programme.  It  was  there  pointed 
out  that,  according  to  the  theory  advanced  in  Chapters 
X.  to  XV.  of  “ Art  in  Theory,”  especially  on  page  160, 
the  degree  of  beauty  is  often  increased  in  the  degree  in 
which  the  number  of  effects  entering  into  its  generally 
complex  nature  is  increased.  This  is  true  even  though 
some  of  these  effects,  as  in  the  case  of  forms  conjured 
before  the  imagination  by  a verbal  description,  may 
come  from  a source  which,  considered  in  itself,  is  not 
aesthetic.  It  must  not  be  overlooked,  however,  that  all 
beauty  whatever  is  a characteristic  of  form  ; and  that 
intellectual  effects,  like  these  explanations,  to  have  an 
aesthetic  influence,  must  always  be  presented  to  apprehen- 
sion in  connection  with  an  external  form  with  which  they 
can  be  clearly  associated.  For  this  reason,  though  they 
may  add  to  the  aesthetic  interest,  where  it  already  exists, 
they  cannot,  of  themselves,  make  up  for  a lack  of  it.  To 
a work  of  art  an  explanation  is  much  what  canes  are  to 
walking.  Well  used,  they  may  increase  the  gracefulness 
of  impression  conveyed  by  a man’s  gait.  But  this  cannot 
be  graceful  at  all,  unless  he  is  able  to  walk  without  them. 
So  a picture  cannot  be  all  that  a work  of  art  should  be, 
unless,  without  one’s  knowing  what  the  explanation  is 
designed  to  impart,  the  drawing  and  coloring  can,  in  some 
degree,  at  least,  attract  and  satisfy  aesthetic  interest.  An 
explanation  intended  to  be  used  as  a crutch  instead  of  a 
cane,  cannot  be  too  strongly  condemned.  But  there  is 
no  greater  folly  than  to  deny  that  the  knowledge  that  we 
may  have,  or  that  we  may  get,  with  reference  to  the  subject 
of  a picture,  enlarging,  as  this  must  do,  its  associations 
and  suggestions,  can  add  immensely  to  our  distinctively 
aesthetic  enjoyment.  In  what  consists  the  worth  of  art 
except  in  the  effects  that  it  arouses  in  the  emotions 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EXP  LAN  A TIONS. 


289 


and,  through  them,  conjures  in  the  imagination?  But 
by  what  is  the  reach  of  imagination  determined,  except 
by  the  amount  of  information  present  in  the  mind  with 
reference  to  that  by  which  the  emotions  have  been  in- 
fluenced ? 

When  we  see  a party  of  children,  we  may  be  interested 
in  them  on  account  of  the  symmetrical  outlines  of  their 
forms,  or  of  the  glow  of  health  in  their  faces.  But  there 
are  other  considerations  that  may  increase  our  interest. 
One  is  the  fact  that  we  see  them  doing  something  which 
their  actions  indicate.  Another  is  that  they  are  ex- 
pressing something  which  their  countenances  indicate ; 
and,  still  another,  that  they  are  children  whom  we  know 
and  love.  Nor  is  it  true  that  any  of  these  latter  con- 
siderations, which  increase  our  interest,  necessarily  inter- 
fere with  the  degree  of  interest  excited  in  us  by  their 
grace  or  beauty  of  form. 

Why  should  one  deny  that  similar  principles  apply  to 
the  figures  seen  in  pictures?  Yet  practically  every  art- 
critic  denies  this  who  fails  to  recognize  that  which  may 
be  added  to  them  by  increasing  their  representation  of  sig- 
nificance. Why  will  a man,  sensible  in  other  regards, 
admire  so  blindly  painters  who,  however  great,  have  not 
the  breadth  to  include  among  their  merits  this  form  of 
excellence?  Why  will  he  follow  them  when  leading  him 
in  an  opposite  direction,  even  to  the  extent  of  turning  his 
back  completely  upon  qualities  of  the  importance  of  which 
the  slightest  thought  ought  to  convince  him?  Or  how 
can  he  complain  if  another,  merely  imitating  in  principle 
his  own  example,  turn  in  the  opposite  direction  even  to 
the  extent  of  altogether  ignoring  technique?  Art  in- 
volves the  representation  not  merely  of  significance  nor 

merely  of  form  ; and  those  who  wish  to  further  its  interests 
19 


290  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

cannot  do  so  by  directing  the  energies  of  the  artist  ex- 
clusively to  either.  The  captain  of  a yawl  tossed  by 
ocean  waves  might  as  well  urge  every  one  on  board  of  it 
to  rush  to  one  side  of  it  or  to  the  other,  and  expect  to 
reach  his  landing  without  capsizing. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  APPEARANCES  IN 
PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE. 

Form  Comes  to  be  Developed  for  its  own  Sake — To  Appreciate  Art,  we 
should  Know  the  Technical  Aims  of  the  Artist — Books  on  the  Subject — 
Elements  of  Correct  Technique — Lineal  Representation  of  Light  and 
Shade — Of  Shape  and  Texture — Of  Distance  and  Perspective — “ Clas- 
sic ” and  “ Romantic  ” Lines — Distinctness  and  Indistinctness  of  Line 
— Laws  of  Perspective — Lineal  Representation  of  Life  and  Movement 
— Reason  for  Apparent  Lack  of  Accuracy — Same  Principles  Apply  to 
Sculpture — Elements  of  Correct  Coloring — Ignorance  of  Early  Colorists 
— Value — Origin  of  the  Term — Color — Representation  of  Light  and 
Shade — Of  Shape  and  Texture — Of  Distance  or  Aerial  Perspective — - 
Of  Life  and  Movement — Conclusion. 

w HENEVER  one  uses  a form  either  of  sound  or  of 
sight  in  order  through  it  to  express  thought  or 
feeling,  a natural  tendency  of  mind  causes  him  after  a 
little  to  become  interested  in  the  form  and  to  develop  its 
possibilities  for  its  own  sake.  As  shown  in  Chapter  V.  of 
“Art  in  Theory,”  it  is  this  tendency  that  leads  to  all  art; 
and  the  fact  furnishes  a degree  of  justification,  though  not 
to  the  extent  that  is  sometimes  urged,  for  the  maxim  that 
enjoins  interest  in  “art  for  art’s  sake,”  even  if  by  art,  in 
this  sense,  be  meant  that  merely  which  has  to  do  with 
the  representation  or  reproduction  of  form  as  form. 

The  truth  of  this  statement  is  especially  easy  to  recog- 
nize as  applied  to  painting  and  sculpture,  partly  because 


292  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE . AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


in  them  it  is  so  evidently  essential  to  have  the  forms 
exactly  imitative  of  those  of  nature,  and  partly  because, 
before  the  imitation  necessitated  can  be  successful,  it  so 
evidently  requires  careful  and  scientific  study.  These 
considerations  do  not  justify  a lack  of  interest  in  the  sig- 
nificance which  a form  may  be  made  to  express  ; but  they 
do  necessitate,  on  the  part  of  all  who  wish  to  understand 
the  subject,  some  knowledge,  if  not  of  a painter’s  tech- 
nique, at  least  of  his  technical  aims.  Only  in  the  degree 
in  which  men  have  this  knowledge,  can  they  estimate  a 
painting  from  an  artist’s  point  of  view,  or  have  a right  to 
an  opinion  concerning  its  workmanship.  Fortunately, 
this  very  apparent  fact  has  been  fully  recognized.  Not  to 
speak  of  foreign  works  on  the  subject,  like  Charles  Blanc’s 
“ Grammar  of  Painting  and  Engraving,”  able  books  have 
been  produced  in  our  own  country,  exactly  fitted  to  supply 
the  information  needed  particularly  by  ourselves.  Chief 
among  them  are  Dr.  John  C.  Van  Dyke’s  “ How  to  Judge 
of  a Picture”  and  “Art  for  Art’s  Sake.”  It  is  difficult  to 
conceive  how  any  one  could  make  a more  thorough  and 
discriminating  study  of  painting  from  the  view-point  of 
the  leading  modern  artists — though,  of  course,  some  of 
them  would  differ  from  him — than  has  been  done  by  this 
author  ; and  certainly  no  one  has  ever  succeeded  in  giving 
so  clear  and  on  the  whole  so  absolutely  trustworthy  an 
expression  to  the  results  of  such  study.  Mr.  George  W. 
Sheldon,  too,  has  thrown  an  immense  amount  of  light  on 
the  same  subject  in  his  exceedingly  interesting  and  im- 
portant series  of  what  might  be  termed  “ edited  inter- 
views ” with  painters,  published  in  his  volumes  entitled 
“American  Painters,”  “ Hours  with  Art  and  Artists,”  and 
“ Recent  Ideals  in  American  Art.”  Indeed,  to  attempt 
here  anything  intended  in  any  sense  to  be  a substitute  for 


KEPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  FERIAL  APPEARANCES.  293 


But  as  our  general 


these  works  would  be  superfluous, 
plan  renders  some 
reference  to  the 
subject  essential, 
it  is  hoped  that,  by 
way  of  arrange- 
ment or  comment, 
if  of  nothing  else,, 
even  those  familiar 
with  the  general 
principles  involved 
may  not  find  this 
chapter  wholly  un- 
suggestive. 

As  has  been  no- 
ticed, there  are 
many  characteris- 
tics of  visible  form. 

The  more  import- 
ant of  these,  by 
grouping  together 
in  four  cases  two 
factors  that  are 
clearly  allied,  may 
be  considered  un- 
der the  heads  of 
light  and  shade , 
shape  and  texture , 
distance  and  per- 
spective, and  life 
and  movement. 

These  four  doubled  re- 
quirements of  painting,  and,  in  some  cases,  of  sculpture, 


FIG.  167.— TREATMENT  OF  DESIGN  IN  RELIEF. 
W.  CRANE. 

See  pages  44,  46,  294,  307. 


294  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


we  shall  consider  as  influencing  first  the  use  of  lines,  as 
in  drawing  or  carving  ; and,  second,  the  use  of  color. 

With  reference  to  light  and  shade  as  influencing  the  use 
of  lines,  it  is  chiefly  important  to  notice  that,  in  very 
bright  light  objects  are  more  distinct  than  in  dim  light, 
first,  because  we  see  them  more  clearly  ; and  second, 
because  we  see  them  in  contrast  to  shadows  which  are 
immediately  beside  or  behind  them  ; and  in  the  brightest 
light,  as  in  brilliant  sunshine,  the  shadows  are  always  com- 
paratively the  darkest.  Notice  the  two  illustrations  at 
the  right  of  Fig.  168,  page  297.  Of  course  the  representa- 
tion, whether  by  pencil  or  brush,  of  outlines  supposed  to 
be  illuminated  by  different  degrees  of  light,  must  corre- 
spond to  these  /acts. 

Closely  connected  with  the  representation  of  light  and 
shade  as  produced  by  drawing,  is  that  of  shape  and  texture. 
It  is  chiefly  through  the  play  upon  surfaces  of  the  former 
two  that  we  are  able  to  tell  whether  an  object  as  a whole 
is  flat  or  round,  or  whether  its  surface  is  rough  or  smooth. 
Notice  these  facts  as  exemplified  in  the  drawings  of 
objects  in  Fig.  167,  page  293  ; also  in  Fig.  16,  page  41. 

The  third  effects  to  be  represented  are  distance  and 
perspective.  To  begin  with,  remote  objects  are  always 
in  light  that  is  comparatively  dim  ; and,  for  this  reason 
alone,  it  follows  from  what  has  been  said  already  that 
their  outlines  are  indistinct  (see  Fig.  168,  page  297).  But 
it  took  the  world  many  years  to  recognize  this.  Some 
artists  apparently  have  not  recognized  it  yet.  There  is 
still  a controversy,  the  results  of  which  can  be  seen  in 
every  large  gallery  of  modern  paintings  between  the 
advocates  of  what  is  termed  the  “ classic  ” or  “academic  ” 
line,  and  the  “ romantic,”  “picturesque,”  or  “naturalis- 
tic.” The  former  is  a firm,  clear  line  such  as  appears  in 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  APPEARANCES.  2g5 

the  paintings  of  Gerome  (Fig.  8,  page  31),  Bougereau, 
and  Cabanel.  The  other  is  a misty,  indistinct  line,  such 
as  appears  in  certain  works  of  Millet  and  Corot.  Notice 
especially  the  left  leg  of  the  man  in  Fig.  169,  page  299. 
The  classic  line  is  necessarily  the  primitive  one,  the  first 
impulse  of  any  draftsman  being  to  separate  an  object 
distinctly  from  other  objects.  As  we  should  expect, 
therefore,  this  kind  of  line  characterizes  most  of  the  pic- 
tures that  have  come  to  us  from  the  ancients,  as  well  as 
the  rude  sketches  of  the  school-boys  of  our  own  time. 
But  in  the  drawings  of  the  great  masters,  say  Titian,  Cor- 
reggio,  and  Rembrandt,  there  is  a constant  tendency  in 
the  other  direction.  Only  in  modern  times,  however, 
have  the  two  tendencies  developed  into  antagonistic 
schools, — the  extreme  advocates  of  the  one,  though  they 
are  not  all  called  Pre-Raphaelites,  showing  a tendency, 
nevertheless,  to  claim,  as  the  modern  painters  who 
founded  this  school  were  accused  of  doing  (see  Fjg.  15  I, 
page  229),  that  in  a painting  every  leaf  on  a tree,  every 
spear  in  a grass-plot,  every  hair  on  a head,  should  be  dis- 
tinctly and  separately  outlined  ; and  the  advocates  of  the 
other  school  showing  a tendency  to  claim  that  in  no  case 
should  any  of  these  be  so  outlined,  partly  because  they 
are  not  so  perceived  in  nature,  and  partly  because,  even 
if  so  perceived,  they  should  not  be  so  delineated  in  art, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  represent  not  specific,  but  gen- 
eral effects  (see  Fig.  152,  page  231  ; also  169,  page  299). 
It  seems  as  if,  in  this  case,  as  usual,  the  extremists  on 
both  sides  somewhat  exaggerate  the  partial  truth  that 
they  are  trying  to  emphasize.  Objects  in  very  bright 
light  and  near  at  hand  can  be,  and,  if  one  would  repre- 
sent nature  faithfully,  should  be  delineated  with  well 
defined  outlines.  On  the  contrary,  objects  that  are  in 


296  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 


dim  light,  as  in  the  twilight  landscapes  of  Corot,  or  ob- 
jects which  are  remote  from  the  observer,  can  be  and 
should  be  delineated  with  indistinct  outlines.  Notice 
these  conditions  as  indicated  in  Fig.  1 68,  page  297,  taken 
from  “ The  Principles  and  Methods  of  Art-Education,” 
of  Principal  John  Ward  Stimson.  It  is  a fact  that,  a few 
hundred  feet  away,  we  recognize  men,  horses,  and  sheep 
less  by  distinguishing  accurately  their  outlines  than  by 
observing  their  relative  shapes,  sizes,  and  colors  ; and  that, 
at  the  same  distance,  the  leaves  of  trees  blend  in  a general 
mass  of  foliage.  But  this  is  no  reason  why  the  same  ob- 
jects, if  represented  as  near  at  hand,  or,  possibly,  as  seen 
th  rough  an  eye-glass,  should  not  be  delineated  with  out- 
lines of  an  opposite  character. 

To  neglect  to  give  them  these  is  to  base  art-work  upon 
theory  rather  than  observation,  as  well  as  to  suggest  that 
the  advocate  of  the  “ classic  ” line  speaks  the  truth  when 
he  assorts  that  his  opponents  decry  distinctness  chiefly 
because  they  do  not  care  to  give  distinct  emphasis  to  the 
fact  that  they  themselves  are  unskilful  draftsmen.  Cer- 
tainly, no  one  can  doubt  that  an  age  of  the  paintings  of 
impressionists,  in  which  mere  patches  of  color  would  be 
considered  all  that  was  requisite  in  order  to  enable  the 
imagination  to  construct  its  own  contours  for  objects, 
would  be  an  age  in  which  drawing  would  become  a lost 
art.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  truth  seems  to  lie  between 
the  extremes.  And  does  not  the  salvation  of  art  as  of 
life  depend  upon  its  fidelity  to  truth  ? 

But  there  is  another  effect  which  distance  has  upon  the 
line.  This  appears  in  connection  with  what  are  called 
“ the  laws  of  perspective.”  If  we  look  down  a long 
street,  the  roadway  or  sidewalks  of  which  are  of  uniform 
width,  and  the  buildings  along  which  are  of  uniform 


FIG.  168.— EFFECTS  OF  DISTANCE  ON  MAGNITUDE,  LIGHT,  CONTRAST  AND  DETAIL.  J.  W.  S I IMSON. 
See  pages  28,  91,  206,  294,  296,  298,  304,  306,  308. 


298  TAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


height,  we  find  all  the  lines  of  sidewalks,  curbstones,  base- 
ments, and  roofs  gradually  converging  in  the  extreme 
distance.  In  case  two  parallel  lines  are  as  near  together 
as  the  two  tracks  of  a railway,  they  may  seem  actually  to 
meet  in  the  distance.  Notice  the  upper  illustration  at  the 
left  of  Fig.  1 68,  page  297.  As  the  appearance  indicated 
is  universal  in  nature,  of  course  art,  in  representing  nature, 
must  represent  it  also.  Yet  for  centuries  the  proper 
method  of  doing  this  was  not  understood.  Now  it  is 
known  that  if,  from  an  imaginary  vanishing  point  on 
which  the  eye,  in  gazing  toward  the  back  of  a picture,  is 
supposed  to  be  fixed,  radiating  lines  be  drawn  to  the  top 
and  bottom  and  sides  of  a form  represented  in  the  fore- 
ground, these  lines  between  the  form  and  the  vanishing 
point  will  determine  the  top  and  bottom  and  sides  of  other 
figures,  which  in  the  degree  in  which  every  dimension 
in  them  is  made  smaller  than  the  form  in  the  foreground, 
will  appear  to  be,  not  less  in  actual  size,  but  at  a greater 
distance  from  the  spectator.  Notice  the  left  upper  illus- 
tration in  Fig.  168,  page  297.  These  laws  of  perspec- 
tive are  now  so  well  known  that  their  more  simple  effects 
are  easy  to  produce.  But  some  of  them  are  exceedingly 
difficult.  Take  cases  of  foreshortening,  for  instance,  like 
the  representations  painted  by  Michael  Angelo  on  the 
ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  of  figures  in  all  possible  posi- 
tions, standing,  sitting,  lying,  and  ascending  in  clouds, — 
could  any  one,  unless  very  skilful  as  a draftsman,  produce 
with  success  such  effects? 

But  from  this  linear  representation  of  light  and  distance, 
let  us  now  pass  on  to  that  of  life  and  movement.  The 
spokes  of  a wheel  in  a wagon,  when  standing  still,  have 
one  appearance.  What  is  their  appearance  when  the 
wagon  is  under  way  ? What  is  the  appearance  of  a torch 


299  FIG,  169.— LEAVING  FOR  WORK.  J. 

See  pages  295,  300. 


F.  MILLET. 


• 300  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

when  waved  through  tire  air,  or  of  the  legs  of  a man  or  a 
horse  when  racing  ? What  is  the  appearance  of  the  leaves  of 
trees  or  the  waves  of  lakes  when  swayed  by  a tempest  ? An 
attempt  to  answer  these  questions  will  convince  us  of  the 
impossibility  of  using  the  classic  line  in  all  cases,  even  when 
the  object  is  in  clear  light  and  near  at  hand.  Flying  spokes 
of  wheels,  whirling  torches,  moving  legs,  tossing  waves 
and  foliage  (see  Fig.  152,  page  231),  are  seldom  seen  with 
distinct  outlines.  To  have  these,  an  object  should  remain 
a certain  length  of  time  in  one  place.  If  it  do  not,  all  the 
outlines  are  blurred  and  run  into  one  another,  or  into  the 
atmosphere.  For  this  reason,  a rolling  wheel  is  repre- 
sented not  as  a compound  of  spokes,  but  as  a sparkling 
disk,  a waving  torch  not  as  a point  of  light,  but  as  a curve, 
and  a moving  form  not  as  a stationary  one,  but  dispro- 
portionately extended.  Notice  the  left  leg  of  the  man 
in  Fig.  169,  page  299.  It  is  evidently  lengthened  as  it  is, 
in  order  to  represent  two  different  positions  which  the 
eye  is  obliged  to  take  in  at  one  glance.  Whether  the  at- 
tempted effect  is  a success  in  this  particular  case  may  be 
doubted.  But  effects  analogous  to  it  are  often  greatly 
praised.  “ Let  us  look  at  these  Arab  horsemen  of  Fro- 
mentin,”  says  Van  Dyke  in  his  “ How  to  Judge  of  a 
Picture.”  “The  horse  of  this  falcon  flier  going  at  full 
speed  has  been  criticised,  because,  forsooth,  the  body  is 
too  long  and  the  hindquarters  are  stretched  out  behind 
instead  of  being  compactly  knit  together.  . . . But 

stand  back  and  see  the  effect  of  the  whole.  Is  not  the 
motion,  the  life,  the  fire,  the  dash  superb  ? Could  any- 
thing give  us  a better  impression  of  the  swiftness  of 
flight.” 

The  desire  to  convey  this  impression  of  movement  with 
its  associated  ideas  of  life  and  force  largely  accounts  for 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  APPEARANCES.  301 

the  apparent  lack  of  accuracy,  and  sometimes  unmistak- 
able exaggeration  in  the  works  of  such  an  artist  as  Michael 
Angelo  (see  Fig.  170,  page  301),  as  well  as  for  this  and  also 
for  what  seems  to  be  a lack  of  distinctness  in  the  paint- 


FIQ.  170.— TOMB  OF  GIULIANO  DE’  MEDICI  WITH  FIGURES  OF  DAY  AND  NIGHT.  ANGELO. 
See  pages  50,  301,  302. 


ings  of  Blake,  Millet,  Diaz,  Corot,  and  Daubigny.  As 
Van  Dyke  says:  “ It  is  the  attempt  of  every  true  artist  to 
paint  not  reality,  but  the  appearance  of  reality.” 

All  that  has  been  said  of  drawing  in  painting  applies  to 
carving  in  sculpture.  The  method  of  finishing  surfaces 


302  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

in  marble  or  bronze,  whether  represented  in  full  or  in  par- 
tial relief,  is  not  determined  solely  by  the  outlines  of  the 
form  imitated,  but  by  the  appearance  that  it  presents, 
as  affected  by  the  play  of  light  and  shade  upon  its  surfaces 
and  the  suggestions  of  shape,  texture,  perspective,  life,  or 
movement  necessarily  connected  with  one  rather  than  with 
another  mode  of  treatment.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find 
any  human  forms  with  muscles  actually  resembling  those 
in  the  figures  in  Michael  Angelo’s  “ Tombs  of  the  Medici,” 
at  Florence  (Fig.  170,  page  301).  Yet  the  influence  of 
light  and  shade  upon  the  carving,  when  viewed  from  a 
distance,  makes  all  seem  wonderfully  real.  The  perspec- 
tives represented  in  Fig.  23,  page  51,  or  in  Fig.  155,  page 
247,  suggest  shape  and  distance  as  faithfully  as  if  depicted 
on  canvas  ; and  the  slightly  elongated  or  contracted  pro- 
portions in  Barye’s  bronzes  of  men  and  animals  give 
effects  of  life  and  movement  equal  to  any  attempted  in 
painting. 

The  requirements  of  the  effects  just  mentioned,  which 
make  difficult  the  representation  of  objects  by  means  of 
drawing,  have  a corresponding  influence  upon  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  colors  of  nature.  For  centuries,  painters 
have  been  trying  to  imitate  these.  But  how  seldom  have 
they  been  in  every  regard  successful?  The  earlier  artists, 
even  in  comparatively  modern  times,  did  not  seem  to  see 
exactly  what  these  colors  were.  The  blue  of  the  sky  and 
the  bloom  of  the  cheek  were  painted  in  hues  altogether 
too  deep  and  full.  Sparkling  effects  like  those  gianced 
from  water  were  scarcely  attempted.  Foliage  on  distant 
mountains  was  represented  by  an  impossible  green  ; and 
as  for  that  near  at  hand,  it  seems  to  have  remained  for 
the  discoveries  of  physics  to  suggest  to  painters  how  fre- 
quently it  can  be  helped  by  slight  introductions  among  its 
shadows  of  purple  or  red. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  APPEARANCES.  303 


Nor  did  the  earlier  painters  seem  to  recognize  the  varie- 
ties in  these  colors, — the  infinite  numbers  of  tints  and 
shades  found  in  them  when  exposed  to  more  or  less  of 
sunlight.  They  could  never  represent  aright  the  folds  of 
drapery,  the  leaves  of  trees,  nor  even  the  plain  ceiling  of 
a room  where  it  was  necessary  to  reproduce  effects  of  illu- 
mination or  reflection.  Much  less  could  they  represent 
the  larger  play  of  light  and  shade,  air  luminous  with  sun- 
shine or  mellow  in  the  moonlight.  What  hues  could  pic- 
ture the  effects  of  firelight  or  of  shadows  cast  by  certain 
colors  or  received  on  certain  colors  ? Only  many  experi- 
ments could  settle  these  questions  ; only  science  could  set- 
tle them  beyond  dispute.  The  manner  in  which  it  has  done 
this  will  be  examined  in  another  volume  of  this  series. 
But  a few  paragraphs  with  reference  to  the  subject  will 
not  be  out  of  place  here. 

In  order  to  express  the  effect  upon  colors  of  most  of 
the  influences  that  we  are  to  consider,  painters  use  the 
word  value.  The  same  color,  for  instance,  is  said  to  have 
a different  value  in  sunshine,  in  shadow,  on  the  surface  of 
a square,  and  of  a sphere,  in  a texture  of  silk  and  of  vel- 
vet, when  near  us  or  when  seen  distinctly  in  a clear  at- 
mosphere, when  remote  from  us  or  when  seen  indistinctly 
in  a dim  atmosphere,  or  when  considered  in  its  relations 
to  movement.  The  artist  who  preserves  the  proper  values 
of  color  is  the  one  who,  in  all  these  cases,  represents  it  as 
in  the  circumstances  it  appears  in  nature. 

The  use  of  the  term  undoubtedly  grew  out  of  the  appli- 
cation to  colors  of  other  terms  like  rich,  full,  deep,  thin, 
weak.  It  would  be  natural  to  say  that  anything  which 
could  be  more  rich  or  full  than  another  could  differ  from 
it  in  value.  All  such  terms,  however,  when  once  used, 
come  soon  to  have  technical  meanings.  The  meaning 
now  attached  to  this  term  is  indicative  of  the  degree  of  light 

o o 


304  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


that  is  in  a color.  In  the  foreground  of  a picture,  where 
there  is  the  most  light  rendering  it  distinct,  the  color  is 
said  to  have  more  value  than  the  same  when  in  the  back- 
ground. The  term  is  also  applied  to  colorless  drawings, 
but,  in  this  case,  a line  that  is  in  the  foreground,  where 
there  is  the  most  light  rendering  it  distinct,  is,  unlike  a 
color,  darker  rather  than  brighter.  So  we  have  the  ap- 
parent anomaly  of  assigning  the  most  value  to  bright 
colors,  but  to  dark  lines  (see  Fig.  168,  page  297).  A score 
or  more  of  years  ago  the  term  was  used  to  indicate  differ- 
ences between  different  hues;  yellow,  for  instance,  as  con- 
taining more  light,  being  said  to  have  more  value  than 
green  containing  less  light.  At  present,  however,  the 
word  is  mainly  used  to  indicate  relations  between  differ- 
ent tints  or  shades  of  the  same  hue,  tint  being  a term  in- 
dicative of  what  contains  more  light,  and  shade  a term 
indicative  of  what  contains  less  light  than  the  hue  itself 
does  when  it  is  what  is  termed  full.  As  illustrating  the 
very  different  effects  produced  upon  the  same  color  by 
very  slight  changes  in  degrees  of  light  and  shade,  excel- 
lent examples  are  afforded  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  New  York.  For  instance,  in  the  picture  entitled 
“ Gossip,”  by  Carl  Marr,  dresses,  a table-cloth,  a window 
curtain,  and  many  other  articles  placed  side  by  side  are 
all  white.  In  another  picture,  entitled  “A  Spanish  Lady,” 
by  Fortuny,  the  dress,  laces,  ribbons,  and  ornaments  of 
jet  are  all  black;  and  in  still  another, entitled  “ Monks  in 
the  Oratory,”  by  F.  M.  Granet,  the  robes,  seats,  wainscot- 
ing, and  other  objects  are  all  brown. 

As  was  done  in  the  case  of  drawing,  let  us  consider 
here,  first,  the  representation  of  light  and  shade.  The 
very  earliest  paintings  of  which  we  know — the  Egyptian 
— contained  no  shadows  whatever.  The  early  Italians 


REPRESS /VTA  TION  OF  MA  TER/AL  APPEARANCES.  305 


thought  that  they  could  depict  the  effects  of  light  upon 
a fabric  of  any  color  by  white,  and  of  shade  upon  the 
same  color  by  black.  Of  course,  their  method  did  not 
involve  any  study  of  what  is  now  termed  value.  But 
with  the  development  of  the  possibilities  of  pigments  by 
Leonardo,  Titian,  Correggio,  Rembrandt,  and  their  re- 
spective followers,  the  necessity  for  this  study  became 
recognized.  In  modern  times  it  has  been  still  further 
emphasized  by  the  employment  of  the  term  itself,  and  in 
the  teaching  of  what  is  meant  by  it  in  the  schools. 

The  effects  of  light  and  shade  upon  any  scene  in  nature 
may  be  said  to  be  general  and  particular.  That  which  is 
general  is  produced  upon  a scene  or  an  object  in  it,  as  a 
whole,  by  some  illumining  agent,  like  the  sun,  the  moon, 
a fire,  or  a candle.  That  which  is  special  is  produced  by 
the  different  positions  relatively  to  one  another  of  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  whole.  A tree  or  a man,  for  instance,  if 
depicted  in  sunshine,  would  each  cast  a shadow,  and  each 
with  its  shadow  would  illustrate  the  effects  of  general 
light  and  shade.  But  besides  this,  every  leaf  or  limb  of 
the  tree  is  illumined  with  a light  peculiar  to  itself,  and 
casts  its  shadow  on  some  other  leaf  or  limb  ; and  every 
feature  in  the  countenance  and  every  fold  in  the  clothing 
of  a man  is  either  in  extreme  brightness,  like  the  tip  of 
his  chin  or  nose,  or  in  shadow,  like  a dimple  of  his  chin  or 
one  side  of  his  nose.  In  some  of  these  cases,  as  for  in- 
stance, where  sparkling  effects  are  necessary,  light  can  be 
properly  indicated  by  white,  and  shade,  as  where  surround- 
ing colors  are  very  dull,  by  black  ; in  others,  as  where  the 
light  falls  strongly  on  brilliant  colors,  the  shadows  must 
contain  hues  that  complement  these  ; but  in  many  cases, 
especially  where  the  light  is  not  intense,  it  is  mainly  neces- 
sary to  change  the  values  of  the  same  hues  making  them 
20 


306  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

brighter  in  more  light  and  darker  in  less.  To  preserve 
the  proper  relations  and  proportions  of  coloring,  in  each 
case,  is,  of  course,  extremely  difficult,  and  necessitates  very 
careful  observations  of  the  conditions  of  nature.  The 
main  principle  is  that  the  brighter  the  illumining  light, 
the  greater  are  the  contrasts  both  of  shade  and  hue  between 
the  bright  and  dark  parts  and  the  more  sharply  defined 
are  the  lines  of  demarkation  between  them  (see  Fig.  1 68, 
page  297).  Besides  this,  in  any  given  scene,  the  influence 
of  the  light  is  such  that,  to  be  properly  represented,  the 
values  need  to  be  slightly  and  gradually  changed  at  almost 
every  point.  The  difference  in  a painting  between  the 
appearance  of  mere  paint  and  the  appearance  of  reality  is 
largely  due  to  these  slight  variations  in  values,  producing, 
wherever  are  depicted  thick  foliage  or  folds  of  drapery, 
those  subtle  suggestions  of  the  play  of  light  and  shade  in 
which  nature  always  abounds.  Other  facts  that  should 
be  considered  in  connection  with  light  and  shade,  need 
not  detain  us  here.  Some  have  reference  to  conveying, 
through  methods  of  composition,  an  impression  of  unity. 
These  are  treated  in  “ The  Genesis  of  Art-Forms,”  under 
the  various  heads  of  Principality,  Central-Point,  Massing, 
and  Gradation.  Others  have  reference  to  color-harmony, 
and  these,  as  well  as  the  former,  will  be  treated  in  a vol- 
ume to  be  entitled  “ Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and 
Color  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture.” 

As  in  the  case  of  drawing,  the  representation  of  shape 
and  texture  is  closely  related  to  that  of  light  through  the 
use  of  color.  Shape  is  indicated  mainly  in  connection 
with  general,  and  texture  with  special,  light  and  shade.  It 
is  the  narrow  or  broad  lines  or  masses  of  intensely  bright 
and  sometimes  white  color  which,  together  with  darker 
colors  on  either  side  or  surrounding  them,  enable  us  to 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  TERIAL  APPEARANCES.  307 

perceive  that  a surface  on  which  they  appear  is  intended 
to  represent  an  edged  or  a rounded  or  circular  shape, 
while  similar  characteristics,  differently  and  more  minutely 
distributed,  enable  us  to  recognize  that  the  texture  is  in- 
tended to' seem  like  that  of  silk,  velvet,  wool,  wood,  stone, 
soil,  water,  or  clouds.  We  can  recognize  these  facts,  even 
from  the  corresponding  effect  as  produced  by  the  use  of 
the  pencil  in  Figs.  16,  page  41,  and  167,  page  293.  The 
necessity  of  representing  shape  in  painting  was  recognized 
very  early  in  the  development  of  the  art,  but  there  were 
no  great  painters  of  texture  before  those  of  the  Nether- 
lands, like  Dou,  Hals,  Denner,  Terborch,  and  Jan  Steen. 
In  modern  times  there  are  many  who  excel  in  producing 
these  effects,  noticeably  Meissonier,  Willems,  Breton, 
Fortuny,  and  Alma  Tadema,  as  well  as,  in  landscape,  Rous- 
seau and  Troyon.  In  the  paintings  of  all  of  these,  silks, 
satins,  velvets,  rugs,  leathers,  furs,  feathers,  marbles,  moss, 
sod,  tree-trunks,  rocks,  water,  are  evidently  treated  as  they 
are  with  a primary  design,  not  in  all  cases  equally  suc- 
cessful, to  have  every  detail  represent  exactly  what  they 
purport  to  be. 

The  use  of  values  in  the  representation  of  distance , or 
aerial  perspective , is  perhaps  more  important  than  in  the 
representation  of  texture.  The  atmosphere  is  filled  with 
particles  that  cause  it  to  act  like  a vail  obscuring  the 
colors  in  the  distance  by  depriving  them  of  a part  of  their 
light.  This,  for  reasons  to  be  explained  in  “ Proportion 
and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting,  etc.,”  pro- 
duces two  effects.  It  causes  the  colors  as  distances 
increase  to  become  duller  and,  in  the  remote  distance,  to 
become  changed  in  hue.  In  an  atmosphere  pervaded 
throughout  by  the  same  general  degree  of  light,  yellow, 
which  contains  the  most  light  of  any  of  the  colors,  passes 


30S  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

into  darker  yellow  and  orange  ; orange  into  red-orange 
and  orange-brown  ; red  into  dark  red  and  brown  ; yellow- 
green,  like  that  in  the  near  foliage  in  bright  sunshine,  into 
green,  then  into  dark  green,  and  in  the  extreme  distance 
into  blue  and  purple,  or,  in  the  absence  of  sunshine,  into 
gray  ; near  colors  too  of  dark  green  and  blue  pass  through 
purple  into  gray.  The  local  shadows  cast  by  a hill,  tree, 
or  leaves  in  the  greater  brightness  near  at  hand  are  darker 
than  the  shadows  at  a distance  (see  Fig.  1 68,  page  297). 
The  general  shadows  cast  by  the  clouds  do  not  necessarily 
have  this  effect.  Often  in  fact,  by  obscuring  the  sunlight 
near  at  hand  and  leaving  it  clear  in  the  distance,  in  other 
words  by  changing  the  degrees  of  light  in  different  parts 
of  a landscape,  they  change  the  distribution  of  colors  that 
have  been  mentioned.  In  an  ocean  view,  for  instance, 
light  green  is  sometimes  seen  in  the  distance  and  deep 
blue  near  at  hand.  But  as  a rule  the  colors  in  aerial  per- 
spective will  appear  as  has  been  stated.  In  regiments  of 
soldiers  marching  toward  us,  all  clad  in  scarlet,  that  color 
seems  brightest  in  the  front  rank,  slightly  less  bright  in 
the  second,  and  gradually  decreases  in  brightness  till  in 
the  remotest  distance  it  may  seem  nearly  brown.  Even  in 
the  same  room  books  of  the  same  color  seem  to  differ,  if 
one  be  a foot  farther  from  us  than  the  other,  provided 
always,  of  course,  that  they  are  illumined  by  the  same 
degree  of  light.  All  these  statements  can  be  seen  illus- 
trated, by  inspecting  the  works  of  artists  like  Rousseau, 
Daubigny,  Millet,  Troyon,  or  others  of  the  Fontainebleau- 
Barbicon  school,  the  oriental  pictures  of  Decamps  or 
Fromentin,  or  the  landscapes  or  interiors  of  more  modern 
painters  like  Inness  or  Chase  of  our  own  country,  Israels 
of  Holland,  or  Lerolle  of  France.  Those  who  have  an 
opportunity  to  do  so  will  be  interested  in  noticing  the 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  APPEARANCES.  309 


effects  of  distance  and  space  as  produced  by  the  latter, 
in  the  “ Organ  Recital,”  which  is  in  the  Metropolitan  Art 
Museum  in  New  York. 

Life  and  movement  are  also  represented  by  the  use  of 
pigments.  The  surfaces  of  moving  objects  are  all  the 
while  passing  either  into  the  shade  or  out  of  it,  or  farther 
from  us  or  nearer  us,  as  the  case  may  be.  This  fact 
necessarily  involves  changing  their  colors  and  causing 
them  to  run  or  blur  together.  Not  only  so,  but  in  the 
degree  in  which  their  surfaces  are  capable  of  reflecting 
the  light,  it  produces  those  contrasts  between  sparkling 
and  dark  effects  with  which  we  are  all  familiar  in  the 
appearance  of  waves  and  revolving  wheels,  when  glancing 
back  the  sunshine.  Even  in  objects  where  there  is  little 
movement,  as  in  ordinary  sod  and  tree-trunks,  there  is  an 
irregularity  of  surface  and  of  substance  that  produces 
graded,  striped,  and  checkered  effects,  all  of  them 
apparently  so  inseparably  connected  with  life,  that  the 
reproduction  of  them  by  the  use  of  pigments  is  essential 
to  make  a picture  seem  life-like.  In  fact,  here  as  else- 
where, we  find  that  the  difference  between  the  suggestion 
of  the  reality  of  nature  and  the  suggestion  of  mere  brush- 
work  in  a picture  is  owing  mainly  to  the  fact  that  in  the 
former  the  true  values  of  the  colors  have  in  all  cases  been 
preserved. 

But  enough  has  been  said  here  for  our  present  purpose. 
There  are  other  considerations  in  connection  with  this 
subject  that  need  to  be  understood  even  for  the  recogni- 
tion of  successful  imitation,  such  as  the  influence  of  re- 
flection or  of  shadows  cast  by  or  on  certain  colors  in 
different  degrees  and  kinds  of  light,  and  the  way  in  which 
two  colors  having  one  effect  in  nature  weaken  or 
strengthen  one  another  when  brought  together  in  the 


310  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

closer  proximity  necessitated  by  a picture.  But  none  of 
these  facts  could  be  treated  satisfactorily  without  a more 
extended  explanation  of  the  scientific  principles  involved 
than  would  be  appropriate  in  a place  where  we  are  con- 
sidering color  not  as  color  but  as  a means  of  representa- 
tion. For  this  reason,  a discussion  of  them  must  be 
postponed  to  that  volume  of  this  series  of  essays  entitled 
“ Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture.” 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  REPRESENTATION  IN 
ARCHITECTURE. 

Modes  of  Expression  in  Architecture  and  Music  as  Contrasted  with  Paint- 
ing, Sculpture,  and  Poetry— The  Germs  of  Music  and  Architecture  Ante- 
date those  of  the  Other  Arts,  but  are  Artistically  Developed  Later — 
Music  Develops  through  Poetry,  and  Architecture  is  Hut-Building 
Made  Picturesque  and  Statuesque — Early  Attempts  to  Make  Useful 
Buildings  Ornamental — Examples  — Influence  of  the  Play-Impulse 
upon  All  Forms  of  Construction — Illustration  of  its  Effects  upon  a 
House  — These  Effects  Represent  both  Mental  and  Material  Conditions 
— Facts  Evincing  this — Such  Effects  as  Enhancing  the  Interest. 


gEFORE  concluding  the  task  undertaken  in  this  vol- 
ume, the  effects  of  appearances,  which  were  studied 
in  detail  in  Chapters  II.  to  XI.  inclusive,  must  be  con- 
sidered as  combined  together  in  the  products  of  architec- 
ture. As  an  aid  to  this  end,  let  us  first  recall  what 
was  said  in  Chapter  II.  of  the  differences  between  the 
modes  of  expression  developed  in  this  art  and  in  painting 
and  sculpture.  In  these  latter,  as  also  in  poetry,  the  mode 
was  said  to  be  responsive  or  unsustained,  a terminal- 
ogy  explained  by  directing  attention  to  the  fact  that 
their  forms  are  occasioned  by  an  endeavor  to  respond 
to  outside  interruption,  or  at  least  emergency ; as  is  ex- 
emplified when  a cat  moves  about  and  mews  ; or  when  a 
bird  flits  from  branch  to  branch  and  chirps ; or  when  a 
man,  gazing  from  one  to  another  of  his  surroundings,  re- 


312  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

fers  frequently  in  language  or  action  to  what  he  hears  or 
sees.  If  he  do  so  by  word,  we  have  that  which  de- 
velops into  poetry,  if  by  deed,  that  which  develops  into 
painting  or  sculpture.  But  aside  from  this  mode  of  ex- 
pression, it  was  pointed  out  that  there  is  another,  which 
may  be  termed  subjective  or  sustained.  In  accordance 
with  this,  the  cat  keeps  quiet  and  purrs,  the  bird  stays  on 
one  branch  and  sings,  and  the  man  works  and  hums  to 
himself,  developing  a plan  or  melody  from  some  single 
outside  suggestion  without  consciousness  of  interruption  ; 
or,  at  least,  of  anything  like  constant  interruption,  in 
which  other  things  are  suggested.  It  was  said  that  this 
subjective  or  sustained  mood  is  at  the  basis  of  represen- 
tation in  architecture  and  music;  also  that  because  the 
mood  is  suggestive  rather  than  responsive,  there  is  less 
necessity  in  these  arts  than  in  painting,  sculpture,  and 
poetry  for  expressing  thought  and  emotion  in  such  ways 
as  to  communicate  definite  information  to  others ; and 
because  the  method  of  expression  is  sustained,  there  is 
less  consciousness  of  external  surroundings,  and  therefore, 
less  tendency  to  describe  and  imitate  their  appearances. 
The  musician  constructs  an  entire  symphony  from  a single 
significant  series  of  tones,  and  the  architect  constructs  an 
entire  building  from  a significant  series  of  outlines.  At 
the  same  time,  there  is,  in  both  arts,  an  occasional  return 
to  nature  for  the  purpose  of  incorporating,  if  not  imitat- 
ing, in  the  product  some  new  expression  of  significance. 
But  the  fact  that  they  are  both  developed  from  this  sus- 
tained and  subjective  method  of  giving  expression  to  a 
first  suggestion,  makes  such  a return  to  nature  much  less 
frequent  in  them  than  in  the  other  arts. 

One  more  point  of  similarity  between  music  and  archi- 
tecture ought,  perhaps,  to  be  mentioned.  It  is  this,  that 


REPRESENTATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE,  3 1 3 

while,  as  among  very  young  children,  for  instance,  the  in- 
articulated  tones  that  develop  into  music  antedate  the 
articulated  words  that  develop  into  poetry,  the  artistic 
forms  of  music,  as  in  melody  and  harmony,  are  developed 
much  later  than  those  of  poetry.  In  the  same  way,  too, 
while  the  building  of  huts  that  develops  into  architecture 
antedates  the  drawing,  coloring,  and  carving  that  develop 
into  painting  and  sculpture,  the  artistic  forms  of  architec- 
ture, as  in  ornamental  columns,  pediments,  and  spires,  are 
developed  later  than  painting  and  sculpture  of,  at  least, 
sufficient  excellence  to  merit  recognition.  Of  course,  the 
human  being  is  obliged  at  a very  early  stage  in  his  his- 
tory to  provide  means  of  shelter.  But  he  is  not  influ- 
enced to  construct  that  which  he  erects  in  such  a way  as 
to  give  expression  to  his  thoughts  and  emotions,  which  is 
essential  for  an  artistic  motive,  as  early  as  he  is  influenced 
to  draw  pictures  for  the  same  purpose.  A boy,  or  a boy- 
like savage,  using  a pencil  or  knife,  will  enjoy  expressing 
his  thoughts  and  emotions  byway  of  imitation  for  its  own 
sake,  long  before  he  will  enjoy  doing  the  same  for  the 
sake  of  ornamenting  what  would  be  just  as  useful  without 
ornamentation.  In  the  former  case,  his  mind  begins  by 
being  at  play ; in  the  latter,  by  being  at  work  ; and  his 
first  desire  always  is  to  be  rid  of  work. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  the  tendency  to  produce 
inarticulate  sounds,  and  to  construct  rude  means  of  shel- 
ter, have  to  wait  for  their  artistic  development  until  after 
men,  through  the  consciously  intellectual  use  of  words 
or  pictures,  drawn  or  carved,  have  acquired  that  distinc- 
tively intellectual  sense  which  is  called  artistic.  As  shown 
in  “ Music  as  a Representative  Art,”  music  is  an  adapta- 
tion of  the  intonations  of  voice  which  necessarily  accom- 
pany words,  but  with  the  words  not  necessarily  present, 


314  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

So  architecture  can  be  said  to  be  an  adaptation  of  the 
arrangements  of  appearances  which  necessarily  accompany 
pictures  or  statues,  but  with  the  pictures  or  statues  not 
necessarily  present.  That  is  to  say,  just  as  music  is  suc- 
cessful in  the  degree  in  which  it  fulfils  the  principles 
underlying  the  uses  of  words  in  poetry,  though  these 
words  are  absent,  so  architecture  is  successful  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  fulfils  the  principles  underlying  the 
use  of  appearances  in  paintings  and  statues,  though  these 
appearances  are  absent.  An  architect  in  our  own  times 
first  makes  a drawing  of  his  building.  The  same  man, 
before  the  days  of  pencils  and  paper,  might  not  have 
made  an  external  drawing.  But  he  would  have  made  one 
in  imagination  ; and  this  would  have  indicated  the  influ- 
ence upon  his  mind  of  a picturesque  or  statuesque  con- 
ception. But  how  could  he  have  had  this,  except  as  he 
had  had  experience  of  some  previously  existing  picture  or 
statue  ? 

As  already  intimated,  we  cannot  imagine  a time  when 
human  beings  did  not  use  their  hands  in  order  to  con- 
struct what  would  enhance  their  comfort  and  enjoyment. 
They  would  naturally  do  this  almost  as  early  as  they 
would  articulate  sounds  ; and  the  most  important  of  their 
labors  of  this  kind  would  be  directed  toward  providing 
means  for  protection  and  shelter.  The  earliest  human 
dwellings  are  supposed  to  have  been  caves,  or  very  rudely 
constructed  huts.  According  to  the  views  presented  in 
“ Art  in  Theory,”  so  long  as  men  expended  no  thought 
or  emotion  upon  these  beyond  that  needed  in  order  to 
secure  an  end  of  utility  there  was  no  art  of  architecture. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  that  the  human  mind 
would  not  begin  very  soon,  in  this  department  as  in  all 
others,  to  pay  some  attention  to  aesthetic  ends.  “ So  far 


REPRESENTATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


315 


as  we  can  at  present  discover,”  says  Wyatt  in  his  “Fine 
Art,”  “the  earliest  attempt  at  architectural  effect  was 
the  decoration  of  the  face  of  the  cave  which  formed 
the  dwelling  of  the  individual  (see  Fig.  171,  page  315). 
Openings,  made  for  the  access  of  light  and  ventilation 
with  more  or  less  rude  cutting  scarcely  worthy  of  the 
name  of  architec- 
tural decoration, 
were  executed  with 
rude  implements 
at  a very  early  age. 

Masses  of  stone, 
left  to  support  the 
superincumbent 
rock,  as  the  natural 
cavern  was  en- 
larged, gave  origin 
to  those  rude  piers 
which,  at  first 
misshapen,  subse- 
quently squared, 
then  reduced  by 
the  cutting  off  of 
the  angles  to  an 
octagonal  shape, 
and  further  shaped 
by  additional  cut- 
tings to  a polygonal  section,  ultimately  assumed  the  form 
of  the  cylinder,  slightly  tapered”  (see  Fig.  172,  page  3 1 7). 
Again  he  says : “ At  an  extraordinarily  early  period  in 
the  history  of  mankind  we  meet  with  structures  in  which 
stone  and  other  mineral  substances  simulate  construc- 
tions in  wood  (see  Figs.  171,  page  315,  and  172,  page  317). 


3 1 6 PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ,4yV.C>  ARCHITECTURE. 

It  would  be  unnatural  to  suppose  that  these  construc- 
tions had  not  their  prototypes  in  buildings  of  wood.” 

In  other  words,  to  put  this  in  language  conforming  to 
what  was  said  on  page  314,  the  earliest  traces  of  architec- 
ture indicate  endeavors  to  make  pictures — of  course,  as  the 
material  used  was  stone,  to  make  sculptured  pictures — out 
of  that  which  was  being  constructed.  Fig.  171,  page  315, 
for  instance,  represents  one  of  the  earliest  attempts  at 
architecture  that  has  been  discovered  in  Asia  Minor. 
Looking  at  it,  one  would  suppose  that  it  was  a cave,  in 
front  of  which  a framework  of  wood  had  been  erected. 
Not  at  all.  It  is  merely  a picture  in  stone  of  such  a 
framework.  Again,  Fig.  172,  page  317,  represents  a very 
ancient  interior  of  a cave-temple  in  India.  Flere,  also, 
one  would  suppose  that  pillars  and  rafters  of  wood  had 
been  introduced  in  order  to  support  a ceiling  which  other- 
wise might  fall.  Not  at  all.  'JTlrese  apparently  wooden 
columns  and  beams  have  been  carved  out  of  the  native 
stone  of  the  cave.  Why  has  this  been  done?  Can  any 
one  doubt  the  reason  of  it  ? Can  any  one  fail  to  perceive 
in  them  the  influence  of  a picturesque  and  statuesque 
motive  ? Can  even  those  who  prophesied  so  confidently 
that  the  theory  of  this  series  of  essays  was  sure  to  break 
down  when  it  came  to  be  applied  to  architecture,  be  so 
dull  as  not  to  see  that  this  wellnigh  earliest  architecture 
of  which  we  know  was  distinctively  representative  ? Ob- 
serve, too,  that  it  was  representative  of  both  mental  con- 
ceptions and  material  appearances.  No  one  looking  at  the 
entrance  of  the  one  cave,  or  the  interior  of  the  other, 
could  fail  to  recognize  both  that  a man  had  been  at  work 
upon  it,  and  also  that  he  had  been  at  work  for  the  pur- 
pose of  reproducing  that  which  he  had  seen  elsewhere. 
It  would  represent  the  man,  because  one  would  know 


REPRESENTATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


317 


that  the  person  who  had  planned  the  carving  had  been 
accustomed  to  wooden  constructions,  and  it  would  repre- 
sent his  thoughts  and  feelings  with  reference  to  these, 
because  it  would  show  his  appreciation  and  admiration 
of  certain  of  their  effects.  Otherwise  he  would  never 
have  tried  to  reproduce  similar  effects  through  the  use  of 
material  infinitely  harder  to  shape. 


FIG.  172.— CAVE  OF  ELEPHANTA,  INDIA. 
See  pages  315,  316,  375,  376,  389,  407. 


Now,  with  these  facts  in  mind,  which  will  give  a gen- 
eral conception  of  the  principle  to  be  unfolded,  let  us 
recall  what  was  said  in  Chapter  VII.  of  “Art  in  Theory” 
with  reference  to  the  beginnings  of  all  the  arts.  It  was 
pointed  out  there  that  they  all  spring  from  elaborations 
for  aesthetic  purposes  of  forms  used,  at  first,  for  merely 
practical  purposes.  It  is  inevitable  that  a human  being, 
constituted  as  he  is,  will  represent  his  thoughts  through 


3 I S PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

inarticulate  and  articulate  utterances,  and  through  draw- 
ing and  carving  pictures.  It  is  equally  inevitable  that, 
after  a while,  his  imagination  will  start  to  play,  so  to 
speak,  with  the  forms  through  which  these  representa- 
tions are  made,  and  that,  finally,  each  of  these  forms  will 
be  developed  artistically.  The  accuracy  of  this  state- 
ment can  be  verified  as  applied  even  to  the  lower  forms 
of  the  arts  of  ornamentation.  For  practical  purposes,  a . 
man  produces  a piece  of  woven  cloth  or  something  made 
through  the  use  of  it.  That  the  cloth  may  not  ravel  at 
its  edge,  a section  of  it  is  purposely  unravelled  here,  or  a 
hem  is  made  there,  or,  if  two  pieces  of  cloth  be  used,  a 
seam  is  produced  where  the  two  are  joined.  After  a 
little,  according  to  a law  which  the  mind  always  follows, 
the  imagination  begins  to  experiment  with  these  neces- 
sary contrivances,  and  then  the  unravelled  edge,  the  hem, 
the  seam,  each  respectively,  becomes  a fringe,  a border, 
or  a stripe ; i.  e.,  each  is  developed  into  one  of  the  well- 
known  ornamental  resources  of  the  art  of  the  tailor  or 
upholsterer.  It  is  the  same  in  architecture.  When  the 
imagination  begins  to  play  with  the  underpinnings  of 
buildings,  or  with  the  means  of  approaching  and  entering 
them,  it  gives  us  foundations,  steps,  or  porches;  when 
with  the  parts  upholding  the  roof,  it  gives  us  pillars, 
pilasters,  or  buttresses  ; when  with  the  tops,  sides,  and 
bottoms  of  openings,  it  gives  us  caps,  jams,  or  sills  of 
doors  or  windows  ; when  with  the  roof  and  its  immedi- 
ate supports,  it  gives  entablatures,  eves,  gables,  spires,  or 
domes. 

Fig.  173,  page  319,  taken  by  permission  from  the  Intro- 
duction to  Fergusson’s  “ History  of  Architecture,”  will 
illustrate  this.  The  part  of  the  picture  at  the  left  shows 
us  little  except  brick  and  mortar  and  openings.  It  repre- 


REPRESENTATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE.  319 

sents  a house,  but  not  a product  of  what,  in  any  sense, 
can  be  termed  the  art  of  architecture.  But  each  section 
to  the  right  of  this  shows  more  and  more  of  the  develop- 
ment, through  the  play  of  imagination,  of  artistic  possi- 
bilities. First,  the  vertical  sections  between  the  windows 
are  brought  forward  and  given  the  effects  of  pilasters, 
which  are  also  connected  at  their  tops  by  arches.  A cor- 


FIG.  173.— DEVELOPMENT  OF  ARCHITECTURAL  FEATURES.  FERQUSSON. 
See  pages  52,  318,  319,  323,  343,  344,  360,  380. 


nice  too  is  added  to  the  building.  Next  the  cornice  and 
the  horizontal  spaces  between  the  windows  are  orna- 
mented. Next,  differently  cut  stone  is  introduced  into 
the  lower  story,  horizontal  string-courses  are  made  to 
separate  all  the  stories,  and  a balustrade  is  placed  above 
the  cornice.  Lastly,  the  width  of  the  building  is  in- 
creased, and  almost  every  feature  in  it  is  shaped  mo>'0 
ornamentally  and  grouped  more  symmetrically. 


320  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Such  being  the  process  of  the  development  of  architec- 
ture, let  us  try  to  ascertain  in  what  sense  the  art  may  be 
said  to  represent  both  mental  and  material  conditions. 
When  an  experienced  traveller  comes  upon  caves  or  huts 
or  any  buildings  that  have  been  used  by  human  beings, 
even  if  mere  ruins  like  those  discovered  on  the  sites  of 
Pompeii  and  Herculaneum,  he  instinctively  draws  certain 
inferences  with  reference  to  them.  These  inferences 
have  to  do  with  the  structural  uses  of  the  different  feat- 
ures of  a building  as  related  to  one  another  or  to  its  loca- 
tion ; and  they  have  to  do  also  with  the  ideal  uses  for 
which,  according  to  the  conceptions  of  the  architect, 
as  determined  by  the  requirements  of  convenience  or 
pleasure,  the  building  is  planned.  In  other  words,  these 
inferences  are  based  upon  the  supposition  that  the  forms 
can  represent  both  the  material  method  of  the  construc- 
tion and  the  mental  purpose  of  the  design. 

For  instance,  a traveller,  judging  merely  from  appear- 
ances, may  say  with  reference  to  the  methods  of  con- 
struction, that  some  particular  pillar,  bracket,  lintel,  arch, 
was  shaped  and  placed  as  it  is  in  order  to  furnish  just  the 
support  needed  for  some  particular  weight  or  arrange- 
ment of  material  which  is  over  it.  Or  he  may  say  that 
some  particular  foundation  was  laid  as  it  is  in  order  to 
suit  some  particularly  rocky,  sandy,  or  marshy  soil;  or 
that  some  particular  roof  was  pitched  as  it  is  in  order 
to  fit  a dry  or  a wet  climate,  to  shed  rain  or  snow.  Or, 
judging  from  arrangements  of  doors  or  windows,  he  may 
say,  with  reference  to  the  general  uses  of  a building,  that 
some  particular  part  is  an  audience  hall,  a chapel,  or  a 
picture  gallery.  Even  if  he  find  nothing  except  founda- 
tions, he  can  often  declare  this  to  be  a theatre,  and  that  to 
be  a temple,  or  a bath,  or  a private  house  ; and  not  only  so, 


representa  tion  in  architecture. 


321 


"but  sometimes,  as  at  Pompeii,  he  can  tell  the  uses  of  each 
of  the  different  rooms  of  the  house. 

Observe  that,  in  all  these  ways,  it  is  possible  for  a build- 
ing to  be  representative  ; moreover,  that,  just  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  it  is  so,  the  interest  awakened  by  it  is 
enhanced.  It  then  comes  to  have  the  same  effect  upon 
us  that  would  be  produced  did  its  builder  stand  by  us 
and  tell  us  exactly  what  his  thoughts  were  when  design- 
ing the  arrangement  that  we  see.  It  is  as  if  he  were  to 
say : “ I had  a conception  that  it  would  be  a good  idea 
in  this  position  to  have  an  arch  projected  so,  or  a ceiling 
supported  by  a bracket  inserted  so  ; or  a foundation  in 
soil  like  this  laid  so ; or  a roof  in  a climate  like  this 
shaped  so;  or  a chapel  for  a sect  like  this  planned  so;  or 
an  audience  hall  for  an  assembly  like  this  arranged  so.” 
And  the  more  one  knows  of  architecture,  the  more  in- 
numerable will  he  recognize  to  be  the  thoughts,  and,  in 
the  degree  in  which  ornamentation  is  increased,  the 
aesthetic  feelings  that  it  is  possible  for  the  architect 
to  represent  through  these  apparently  lifeless  forms  of 
wood  or  brick  or  stone. 


21 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION  OF  MENTAL  CON- 
CEPTIONS : FOUNDATIONS  AND  WALLS. 


Representation  of  the  Constructive  Idea  in  the  Foundation — The  Side  Walls 
— Pillars,  Buttresses,  Pilasters,  String-Courses— Effects  of  Satisfaction 
and  Repose  versus  those  of  Insecurity  in  Support  Afforded  by  Pillars — 
Arches — Brackets — Important  for  the  Apparent  Support  to  be  the  Real 
Support — Heavy  Cupolas  and  Ventilators — Unrepresentative  Pediments 
— The  Purpose  of  a Building  as  Determining  its  General  Plan — As  De- 
termining its  Interior  Arrangements — As  Determining  its  Exterior  Ap- 
pearance— Representative  of  the  Interior  Plan  through  the  Exterior — 
Appearance  of  Five  Cottages  Contrasted — The  Same  Principle  Applied 
to  Other  Buildings — Street  Fronts — Palaces — Colleges — Porches,  Win- 
dows, and  Doors. 


AKING  up,  first,  the  representation  in  architecture  of 
the  constructive  idea,  let  us  consider  this  as  mani- 
fested in  the  arrangements  that  are  connected,  first  with 
the  foundations;  second,  with  the  sides,  and  third,  with 
the  roofs.  With  reference  to  the  foundations,  it  is  evident 
that  whatever  may  be  their  real  character,  the  effect  of 
stability  in  a building  depends  upon  their  being  made 
visible  ; and,  of  course,  the  same  effect  may  be  greatly 
increased  by  increasing  their  apparent  sizes,  and  pro- 
jecting their  shapes  outward  from  the  building’s  base. 
Notice  this  fact  as  exemplified  in  the  contrasted  effects 
produced,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the  large  foundations 
under  the  buildings  in  Figs.  3,  page  24,  13,  page  36, 


322 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESEN  TA  TION. 


323 


14,  page  36,  42,  page  83,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the 
smaller  foundations  under  the  building  to  the  left  in  Fig. 
1 73>  page  3 19,  also  in  Fig.  1 74,  page  324.  Such  contrasted 
effects  with  which  all  of  us  are  familiar  show  that  the  rep- 
resentative principle,  as  applied  to  architecture,  necessi- 
tates every  building’s  having  a visible  foundation  ; and, 
not  only  this,  but  one  of  such  size  and  shape  as  to  suggest 
no  doubt  of  its  being  equal  to  the  task  of  giving  firm  sup- 
port to  that  which  is  above  it. 

Analogous  effects  are  produced,  of  course,  by  arrange- 
ments connected  with  the  sides  of  buildings.  P'ig. 
174,  page  324,  has  been  criticised  because  lacking  a 
visible  foundation.  But  notice,  nevertheless,  how  inter- 
esting and  aesthetically  interesting  it  is,  because  appa- 
rently representing,  by  means  of  visible  rafters,  the  method 
of  the  construction  of  its  walls.  The  same  effect  will  be 
seen  in  the  cottages  also  in  Fig.  187,  page  340,  and  Fig. 
189,  page  342.  Observe,  too,  the  house  from  eastern 
Russia,  Fig.  175,  page  325.  How  much  more  interesting 
and  beautiful  this  is  than  would  have  been  possible  for  a 
building  of  its  class,  had  the  logs  of  which  it  is  con- 
structed been  covered  by  clapboards  instead  of  being  left 
exposed  ! 

In  accordance  with  this  principle,  any  arrangements 
that  reinforce  the  blankness  of  a wall,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  do  this  in  a way  to  render  apparent  a real  method 
of  construction,  increase  the  representative  and  therefore 
artistic  effects.  Sometimes  these  effects  are  produced  by 
pillars  as  in  Fig.  14,  page  36;  sometimes  by  buttresses, 
as  in  Fig.  41,  page  81  ; sometimes  by  string-courses,  as 
in  Figs.  202,  page  363,  and  20 7 page  370  ; sometimes  by 
other  jutting  masonry,  as  in  Fig.  25,  page  53  ; and 
sometimes  by  a combination  of  all  these  methods  as  in 


324  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Fig.  198,  page  351.  When,  however,  as  in  the  pilasters 
in  Fig.  176,  there  is  too  great  an  exaggeration  of  that 


FIG.  174.— HOUSES  AT  MORLAIX,  FRANCE. 

See  page  323. 

which  is  necessary  for  support,  there  is  danger  that  the 
form  will  appear  emphasized  at  the  expense  of  the  con- 


FIG.  175.— THE  STARSCHINA’S  HOUSE,  EASTERN  RUSSIA. 
See  pages  323,  358,  403,  408. 


326  PA  I IV  TIN G,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


structive  idea,  and,  of  course,  this  effect,  if  produced,  will  be 
as  detrimental  as  would  be  the  contrary.  Notice  a further 
comment  on  this  building  on  page  348.  The  explanation 
of  the  influence  of  representative  constructive  methods  is 
that  they  impart  a sense  of  satisfaction  and  repose  by 
seeming  to  reveal  the  reasons  why  they  are  used.  For 
instance,  the  impression  conveyed  by  large  stone  pillars 
like  those  in  IH  ig.  1 77,  page  327,  could  be  greatly  improved, 


FIG.  176.— VALM ARINA  PALACE,  VICENZA,  ITALY. 

See  pages  324,  348,  358,  380. 


and  at  trilling  cost,  by  causing  the  stone  upon  which  they 
rest,  or  enough  stone  for  them  to  rest  upon,  to  appear 
below  the  gallery.  As  it  is,  they  seem  to  be  held  up  by 
a wooden  panelling,  which,  of  course,  could  not  be  strong 
enough  for  the  purpose,  Moreover,  through  the  aid  of 
concealed  ironwork,  they  are  projected  slightly  forward 
from  the  wall  below  them,  and  this  again  enhances  the 
impression  of  instability. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


327 


Scarcely  less  strikingly  is  a like  result  produced  by  the 
unnecessarily  complicated  arrangements  about  the  lower 
part  of  the  larger  tower  and  its  parasite  tower  in  Fig.  178, 
page  328.  A more  simple  and  dignified  as  well  as  sub- 
stantial effect  would  have  been  attained  had  there  been  in 
the  under  half  of  the  tower  only  one  arch.  This  should 
have  been  shaped,  too,  like  the  present  middle  arch.  In 
that  case,  the  distinct  discord  produced  by  the  present 
lower  large  arch,  as  seen 
in  contrast  to  the  arch 
above  it,  would  have  been 
avoided  ; in  other  words 
like  would  have  been  put 
with  like,  as  required  by 
the  artistic  principle  un- 
folded in  Chapter  II.  of 
“ The  Genesis  of  Art- 
Form.” 

A similar  sense  of  in- 
security is  conveyed  by 
the  heavy  gable  without  a 
visible  arch  under  it  placed 
over  the  space  behind  the 
large  bay  window  at  the 
left  of  the  building  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  Fig.  179,  page  329.  In  Fig. 
180,  page  330,  again,  there  is  apparently  nothing  to  hold 
up  the  stone  sides  of  the  upper  part  of  the  tower.  The 
roof  under  them  would  at  once  be  crushed  into  splinters 
if  the  apparent  support  were  the  real  support.  Another 
example  of  a similar  effect  will,  perhaps,  make  our  mean- 
ing more  clear.  It  is  becoming  customary  in  our  country 
to  have  a heavy  roof  supported  by  concealed  iron  girders, 


FIG.  177.— EXETER  HALL. 

See  pages  326,  330,  336. 


328  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ,4/VZ?  ARCHITECTURE. 

even  where,  from  the  inside,  it  is  made  to  appear  to  be 
supported  by  wooded  beams.  In  such  cases,  to  one 
standing  under  these  beams  it  is  essential  that  they  seem 
at  least  large  enough  to  sustain  the  weight  that  is  above 
them.  Otherwise,  the  effect  produced  is  one  of  aesthetic 


FIG.  178.— AN  AMERICAN  CHURCH. 

See  pages  327,  330,  355. 

discomfort.  For  even  though  a man  may  be  convinced 
that  the  roof  will  not  tumble,  the  slender  support  repre- 
sented by  the  beams  will  make  him  feel  that,  logically,  it 
should  do  so.  Nor  is  it  necessary,  in  order  to  experience 
this  impression,  that  he  should  know  exactly  what  is  the 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION.  329 

cause  of  it.  If  sensitive  to  the  influences  of  form,  he  may 
merely  say  that  the  roof  seems  too  heavy.  Why  it  seems 
so  can  not  always  be  told,  except  by  one  accustomed  to 
analyze  such  effects.  Fig.  181,  page  331,  represents  a 
small  beam  at  a corner  apparently  intended  to  hold  up  a 
ceiling.  But  a ceiling  as  heavy  as  this,  if  really  held  up 


FIG.  179.— MAIN  BUILDING,  UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 

See  pages  327,  331,  355,  371. 

thus,  would  certainly  snap  the  beam  and  fall,  inside  of 
three  minutes. 

It  is  worth  noticing,  now,  that  the  violation  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  representing  the  method  of  construction  in  at 
least  four  cases,  and,  perhaps,  in  all  those  that  have  been 
cited,  is  owing,  as  is  this  last,  to  a use  of  concealed  iron. 


330  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

This  is  one  reason  for  the  effect  of  the  pillars  in  Fig,  177, 
for  that  of  the  tower  in  Fig.  180  and,  possibly,  also  for  that 
of  the  tower  in  Fig.  178. 

In  all  these  cases,  too,  the  exercise  of  a little  more  con- 
structive imagination  would  probably  have  prevented  the 
architect  from  making  his  forms  appear  to  be  what  they 
could  not  possibly  be  in  reality.  The  effect  in  Fig.  181  of  a 
heavy  roof,  for  instance,  could  be  obviated  by  the  simple 

expedient  of  enlarging  the 
corner  beam.  But  a more 
radical  and,  for  this  reason, 
thorough  way  of  correcting 
the  error  would  be  to  avoid 
all  deceit,  and,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  method  in 
art  sometimes  termed  sin- 
cerity (see  page  407),  to  ar- 
range the  materials  in  such 
ways  that  the  apparent 
support  would  be  the  real 
support.  In  an  age  of  iron, 
why  should  not  the  iron  be 
shown,  and  allowed  to  re- 
veal its  genuine  character? 
If  a roof  be  really  sup- 
ported by  steel  girders,  why  should  not  the  steel  be  visi- 
ble ? A ceiling  of  wood,  revealing  its  natural  colors  and 
grainings,  resting  on  beams  of  polished  or  nickel-plated 
steel,  might  be  made  to  have  effects,  both  as  regards  ma- 
terial and  color,  in  the  highest  sense  chaste  and  beautiful. 
The  metal  might  even  be  ornamented  and  as  legitimately 
too  as  if  it  were  bronze.  Look  at  the  ceiling  in  the 
church  at  New  Walsingford,  England,  in  Fig.  182,  page 


FIG.  180.— HIGH  SCHOOL  TOWER. 
See  pages  327,  330. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


331 


332.  Why  might  not  something  of  an  analogous  char- 
acter be  produced  through  a combination  of  wood  and 
metal  ? After  all,  the  difficulty,  in  our  age,  is  not  to  find 
new  methods  of  producing  genuinely  artistic  effects,  but 
to  find  artists  with  sufficient  originality  to  recognize  their 
possibilities.  Nor  is  there  a surer  way  in  which  they  may 
be  led  to  realize  them  than  through  coming  to  know  and 
feel  and  embody  in  their  products  the  principle  that  all 
art,  even  constructively  considered,  should  be  repre- 
sentative. 


FIG.  181.— SUPPORT  OF  A CHURCH  ROOF. 

Seepages  329,  330. 


This  failure  to  represent  the  method  of  support,  or 
even,  sometimes,  the  fact  of  sufficient  support,  is  exceed- 
ingly common  in  modern  architecture.  Notice  the  cupola 
over  the  central,  or  rather  corner  building,  evidently 
a library  or  chapel,  in  Fig.  183,  page  333  ; also  the  venti- 
lator over  the  centre  of  the  Old  South  Church,  Fig.  24, 
page  52;  also  the  turrets  at  each  corner  of  the  square 
central  part  of  the  Pennsylvania  University,  Fig.  179,  page 


332  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

329.  Looking  at  such  features,  one  is  obliged  to  draw 
one  of  two  conclusions  : either  that  they  are  slight  con- 
structions of  wood,  in  which  case  they  suggest  incongru- 
ity with  the  stone  of  the  buildings  under  them,  and 
instability  both  on  account  of  their  material  and  of  their 
liability  to  be  destroyed  by  fire  ; or  he  must  conclude  that 
they  are  of  heavy  and  substantial  material  ; but  if  he  do 

this,  the  impres- 
sion of  instabil- 
ity is  increased, 
because  no  roof 
could  seem 
strong  enough 
to  hold  them. 
The  former  con- 
clusion would 
apply  also  to  the 
ventilators  on 
the  roofs  of  al- 
most all  the 
buildings  in  Fig. 
183,  page  333, 
which  look  as  if 
their  architect 
fig.  182.— decoration  of  a church  ceilinq.  had  actually  in- 
See  page  330.  tended  them  to 

seem  ornamen- 
tal ! But  ventilators  would  be  better  joined  to  the  chim- 
neys. They  certainly  do  not  add  to  dignity  and  sub- 
stantiality of  effect,  when  constructed  as  if  they  were 
intended  to  be  traps  in  which  to  catch  fire-brands. 

Another  common  violation  of  this  representative  prin- 
ciple, as  well  as  of  that  of  “ sincerity,”  as  applied  to  con- 


CO 

co 

co 


See  pages  331,  332,  355.  35$,  359- 


334  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


struction,  is  in  such  arrangements  as  can  be  noticed  over 
the  side  aisles  on  each  side  of  the  tower  in  the  Madison 
Square  Presbyterian  Church  in  Fig.  201,  page  361.  It  is 
difficult  to  conceive  how  any  architect  could  imagine  that 
it  would  improve  the  appearance  of  the  front  to  misrepre- 
sent the  character  of  the  roof  behind  it.  Those  whom  the 
gable  there  fails  to  deceive  cannot  avoid  aesthetically 
resenting  the  attempted  deception  ; and  those  whom  it  does 
deceive  cannot  avoid  having  their  thoughts  disturbed  by 
trying  to  conjecture  how  a roof  so  shaped  can  afford  a 
watershed  for  the  rain.  Even  the  facade  of  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  Fig.  25,  page  53,  is  objectionable,  and,  in  this  re- 
gard, far  less  satisfactory  than  that  of  the  finely  designed 
cathedral  by  the  same  architect  (Fig.  184,  page  335).  The 
square  front  of  Trinity  does  not  represent  the  roof  be- 
hind it ; nor  is  the  effect  of  this  fact  at  all  counteracted 
by  the  effort  of  the  misrepresented  apex  to  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance through  rising  over  the  obstruction  just  above 
the  centre.  The  objection  to  the  whole  is,  that  the  wall 
of  a building  should  represent  support.  This  square  form 
does  not  represent  the  method  of  support  ; nor  does  it,  ap- 
parently, support  anything  itself.  Therefore  it  appears 
to  be  a sham.  Moreover,  it  produces  mental  perplexity. 
It  causes  one  to  ask  : What,  exactly,  is  the  shape  of  the 
roof?  and,  even  though  this  can  be  guessed,  to  ask  again  : 
How  is  such  a roof  affixed  to  such  a wall? 

Having  examined  now  the  representation  of  the  mate- 
rial method  of  construction,  as  manifested  in  the  arranging 
or  adjusting  of  one  feature  to  fit  another,  let  us  pass  on, 
and  examine  the  representation  of  the  mental  object — in 
other  words,  of  what  we  generally  understand  when  we 
use  the  term  plan. 

The  first  thought  suggested  by  this  term  has  reference 
to  internal  arrangements.  A building  is  planned  for 


FIG.  184— ELEVATION  OF  PROPOSED  CATHEDRAL,  ALBANY, 
BY  H.  H.  RICHARDSON. 

See  pages  334,  378,  380. 

335 


3 36  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

a certain  use  ; and,  when  well  planned,  these  arrangements 
will  almost  necessarily  reveal  it.  As  was  said  on  page  320, 
when  men  examine  ruins,  whether  in  Greece,  Asia  Minor, 
or  Italy,  they  are  able  to  make  out  a theatre,  a temple, 
a bath,  or  a private  house,  and  they  can  often  tell  us 
the  uses  of  each  of  its  different  rooms.  The  most  primi- 
tive buildings  are  thus  recognized  to  be  designed  to  attain 
certain  ends  ; and,  for  this  reason,  they  can  be  said  to 
represent  these.  Evidently  our  more  modern  architec- 
tural products  can  continue  to  do  the  same.  Theatres, 
churches,  markets  and  private  houses  of  the  present,  if 
really  adapted  for  that  for  which  they  are  designed,  will 
represent  this.  An  audience  hall,  for  instance,  in  which 
it  is  desirable  in  every  part  to  hear  and  see  what  is  going 
on  in  some  other  part,  demands  an  open  space  free  from 
pillars  or  other  architectural  contrivances  interfering  with 
sound  or  sight.  Such  pillars,  on  the  other  hand,  may  add 
greatly  to  the  convenience  of  an  arcade,  a market-place,  or 
a bourse,  where  people  need,  as  in  the  ancient  Forum, 
merely  shelter,  while  promenading  or  bargaining  in  com- 
paratively small  as  well  as  separate  groups.  In  ritualistic 
churches  again,  in  which  an  elaborate  ceremony,  intended 
for  the  eye,  is  carried  on  about  an  altar  considered  to 
represent  in  a peculiar  sense  the  divine  presence,  a chan- 
cel is  in  place;  but  not  so  in  a building  for  non-ritualistic 
services.  In  this,  a chancel  means  nothing.  And  yet, 
here  too,  a skilful  architect  can  produce  effects  equalling 
those  of  the  chancel  through  recesses  made  for  the  choir 
and  pulpit.  On  the  surface,  facts  like  these  seem  so  self- 
evident,  as  hardly  to  need  mention.  But,  for  some  mys- 
terious reason,  many  of  our  foremost  architects,  in  their 
practice,  totally  disregard  them.  Notice  again,  Fig.  177, 
page  327. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION. 


337 


Another  fact,  apparently  self-evident,  is  that  when  a 
building  is  to  be  planned,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  decide 
upon  the  arrangement  of  the  halls  and  rooms  of  the  inte- 
rior, and  let  this  arrangement  determine  that  of  the  ex- 
terior. Yet  the  old  Douglas  Park  University  of  Chicago 
is  said  to  have  been  partly  erected,  in  accordance  with  a 
purpose  to  produce  a certain  externa]  effect,  before  any 
attempt  whatever  had  been  made  to  divide  up  the  space 
inside  of  it. 

But,  once  more,  if  the  internal  arrangements  are  to 
determine  the  external  ones,  as  must  evidently  be  the 
case  in  all  logical  construction,  then,  in  the  degree  in  which 
this  principle  is  carried  out  artistically,  i.e.,  in  such  a way  as 
to  be  made  apparent  in  the  form,  that  which  is  on  the  inside 
must  be  represented  on  the  outside.  In  other  words,  a 
building  to  be  made  expressive  of  the  thought,  which,  in 
this  case,  would  mean  the  design  of  the  artist,  must  have 
an  external  appearance  which  manifests  the  internal  plan. 

Admitting  this,  let  us  ask  what  the  features  of  the 
internal  plan  are  which  in  any  case  may  supposably  be 
manifested.  Of  course,  they  are  the  sizes — i.e.,  the 
heights  and  widths — and  the  numbers  and  the  uses  of 
the  different  rooms.  Now  let  us  ask  if,  actually,  it  is 
possible  for  the  exterior  to  manifest  these,  and,  if  so, 
how?  For  an  answer,  let  us  trace  the  development  of 
the  methods  of  doing  it,  starting  with  comparatively 
primitive  exemplifications  of  them,  through  the  use  of 
four  cottages  taken  with  the  kind  permission  of  Mr. 
Ralph  Nevill,  from  his  very  interesting  illustrated  work 
upon  “ Old  Cottage  and  Domestic  Architecture.” 

Fig.  185,  page  338,  shows  us  a cottage  at  Chiddingfold, 
England.  In  this  not  only  is  no  desire  manifested, 
through  the  arrangement  of  doors  and  windows,  to  pro- 


22 


338  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


duce  a symmetrical  effect ; but — what  concerns  us  more 
now, — no  indications  are  given,  on  the  outside,  of  the 
widths  or  heights  or  sizes  or  uses  of  the  rooms  on  the 
inside.  We  know  that  there  are  two  stories  and,  possi- 
bly, an  attic;  but  of  this  latter  we  can  only  form  a guess. 
The  whole  building  is  almost  totally  expressionless,  and — 
what  in  this  case  is  the  same  thing — uninteresting. 


FIG.  185.— COTTAGE  AT  CHIDDINQFOLD,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  54,  337,  339,  358. 


Fig.  186,  page  339,  a cottage  at  Sandhills,  Witley,  Eng- 
land, is  somewhat  more  representative.  Four  of  the  win- 
dows are  arranged  in  some  order,  though  we  feel  like 
demanding  a fifth  window  over  the  door,  and  a sixth  at 
the  door’s  right  side.  The  beams,  too,  seem  to  reveal 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION. 


339 


something  of  the  mode  of  construction,  and  of  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  interior,  though  of  this  last  we  are  not 
certain.  At  the  same  time,  this  cottage  is  more  interest- 
ing than  that  in  Fig.  185. 

In  Fig.  187,  page  340,  a cottage  at  Tuesley,  we  can 
notice  a decided  increase  in  representative  features.  The 
windows  on  the  second  floor  placed,  as  they  are,  just  over 


FIG,  186.— COTTAGE  AT  SANDHILLS,  ENGLAND. 
See  page  338. 


the  openings  on  the  first  floor,  show  some  regard  for 
artistic  effects.  The  vertical  beams  on  the  outside  of  the 
lower  floor  apparently  give  us  a clew  to  the  separations 
between  rooms  in  the  interior,  while  the  projection  over 
the  lower  windows  indicates  the  place  of  the  second  story’s 
floor. 


340  PAIN-TING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


Fig.  188,  page  341,  the  inn  at  Chiddingfold,  contains  all 
the  representative  features  of  the  last  with  some  additions. 
It  is  still  more  interesting,  because  still  more  emphasis  is 
given  in  it  to  the  entrances,  to  the  separations  between 
stories,  and  to  the  chimneys.  The  front  projection  below 
the  second  floor  makes  a covering  for  the  doors;  and 


FIG.  187.— COTTAGE  AT  TUESLEY,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  323,  339,  358. 


these  doors,  evidently,  lead  into  the  office  of  the  inn,  or 
into  a shop  or  bar-room  ; because,  as  one  can  see,  the  en- 
trance into  the  inn’s  hall  is  at  the  side,  a visible  proof  of 
which  is  afforded  not  only  by  the  porch  there,  but  by  the 
irregularly  arranged  windows  above  it,  lighting  a stairway. 


A R CHI  TECT  UR  A L RE  RRE  SEN  TA  TION. 


341 


Finally,  in  Fig.  189,  page  342,  Unsted  Farm,  as  it  is 
called,  the  architect  has  secured  representative  effects  both 
of  form  and  of  significance  ; or  rather,  as  is  always  the 
case  where  this  is  well  done,  ornamental  effects  of  form 
through  emphasizing  features  that  have  significance. 
These  effects,  as  seen  in  the  beams  of  the  exterior,  are  no 


FIG.  188.— INN  AT  CHIDDINQFOLD,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  340,  358,  359. 

more  necessary  than  the  same  as  seen  in  the  chimneys; 
but  they  add  greatly  to  our  interest,  and  they  do  so 
largely  because  this  aesthetic  emphasizing  of  them  makes 
them  represent  also  the  mental  design.  As  we  look  at 
the  building  we  know  almost  exactly  the  widths,  heights, 


342  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


sizes,  and  shapes  of  all  its  prominent  rooms,  and  can  form 
a very  accurate  guess  of  that  for  which  each  of  them  is 
intended.  Of  course  the  same  method  might  be  applied 
to  any  building. 

Walls  in  which  there  are  doors,  windows,  and  projec- 
tions such  as  pilasters,  pillars,  buttresses,  or  string-courses, 


FIG.  189.— UNSTED  FARM,  ENGLAND. 
See  pages  323,  341,  358. 


— and  the  same  is  true  of  foundations,  porches,  and  roofs, — 
awaken  as  much  more  interest  than  do  blank  walls,  as  bod- 
ies do  when  infused  with  a soul  having  the  power  to  express 
thought  and  feeling  than  they  do  when  they  are  merely 
corpses.  Of  course,  too,  the  more  clearly  the  architec- 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


343 


tural  features  reveal  not  only  that  there  is  thought  and 
purpose  behind  them,  but  what  this  thought  and  purpose 
is,  the  more  successful  is  the  result.  How  much  more  so 


FIG.  190—  MARIEN  PLATZ,  MUNICH. 

See  pages  54,  344,  360,  380. 

is  even  the  house  at  the  left  of  Fig.  173,  page  319,  than 
would  be  a blank  wall ! How  much  more  successful  than 


344  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

this  house  is  each  of  the  houses  to  the  right  of  it  in  the 
same  figure!  Observe,  however,  the  very  great  increase 
of  interest  awakened  by  the  fourth  style  of  front,  and,  for 
the  reason  that,  in  this,  the  different  stories  are,  for  the 
first  time,  clearly  indicated  by  the  string-courses  between 
them  ; while,  in  the  two  upper  stories,  other  divisions  are 
indicated  apparently  separating  rooms.  Compare,  again, 


FIG.  191.—  UNTER  DEN  LINDEN,  BERLIN. 

See  pages  344,  360,  364. 


the  inexpressive  front  in  the  building  facing  us  in  Fig. 
190,  page  343,  “The  Marien  Platz  of  Munich,”  or  the 
fronts  in  Fig.  191,  page  344,  “Shops  in  the  Unter  den 
Linden  in  Berlin,”  with  the  less  costly,  but  more  repre- 
sentative fronts  at  the  left  of  Fig.  193,  page  346,  “ A Street 
and  Belfry  at  Ghent”  ; or  with  the  fronts  in  Fig.  192,  page 
345,  “ The  Boulevard  of  St.  Michael,  Paris.”  Compare, 


FIQ.  192.  BOULEVARD  ST.  MICHAEL,  PARIS. 
See  pages  84,  344,  363.,  364,  370,  380. 


346  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

too,  the  inexpressiveness  of  the  facade  of  the  Strozzi 
Palace  at  Florence,  Fig.  194,  page  347,  with  the  expres- 
siveness of  that  of  the  Chateau  of  Chenonceau,  Fig.  195, 


FIG.  193.— A STREET  AND  BELFRY  AT  GHENT. 

See  pages  344,  362,  380. 


page  348.  In  the  former,  the  walls  are  entirely  blank 
with  exception  of  horizontal  string-courses  ; but  these 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


347 


being  immediately  under  the  windows,  do  not  suggest 
any  connection  with  the  floors  ; though  they  do  suggest 
one  aesthetically  essential  appearance,  which  is  that  of 
being  an  artistic  adaptation  of  a useful  feature : i.e.  of  a 
sill.  In  the  chateau  the  string-courses  are  in  the  right 


FIG.  194— STROZZI  PALACE,  FLORENCE. 
See  pages  346,  347,  359,  360. 


places,  and  the  heavy  masonry  between  the  windows 
makes  us  feel,  even  without  vertical  projections,  that 
stone  partitions  are  behind  them.  Representatively 
considered,  too,  though  one  might  object,  on  other 
grounds,  to  the  mixture  of  styles,  the  wing  at  the  left 


34S  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 

clearly  revealing  itself  to  be  a chapel,  is  not  the  least  com- 
mendable feature.  Fig.  196,  page  349,  shows  both  horizon- 
tal and  vertical  divisions.  As  a principal  entrance  into 
the  grand  court  of  the  Paiace  of  the  Louvre,  the  excess  of 


FIG.  195.— CHENONCEAU  CHATEAU,  FRANCE. 

See  pages  346,  347,  352,  378. 

ornamentation,  evinced  in  its  pillars,  may  be  justified. 
There  is  no  question,  however,  that  one  has  a different 
feeling  with  reference  to  the  front  of  the  Valmarina 
Palace  of  Vicenza,  Italy  (Fig.  1 76,  page  326),  especially  in 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION. 


349 


view  of  its  unsuccessful  upper  story.  The  pilasters  do 
not  represent  any  arrangements  on  the  interior,  being 
merely  imitative  of  effects  in  other  buildings  to  which  the 
architect  had  become  accustomed.  Nor  does  the  cornice 
represent  any  constructive  use.  The  upper  story  would 
have  been  just  as  firmly  placed,  had  it  been  below  the 
cornice  instead  of  above  it. 

Once  more,  compare,  aside  from  what  may  be  said  of 
their  roofs  to  which  reference  will  be  made  presently, 
Queen’s  College,  Galway,  in  Fig. 

197,  page  350,  with  the  University 
at  Sydney,  Australia,  in  Fig.  198, 
page  351.  Both  buildings  would 
be  called  non-ecclesiastical  Gothic; 
but  notice  the  difference  between 
the  artistic  effects  of  the  two, 
owing  to  the  greater  representative 
characteristics  of  the  latter.  In 
the  first,  is  a string-course  between 
the  stories,  and  an  indication  of  a 
large  room,  probably  a chapel, 
over  the  central  doorway.  But  in 
the  second,  besides  string-courses, 
there  are  projections  of  the  walls 
and  also  buttresses,  and  arrange- 
ments of  windows  and  doors, 
which  seem,  at  least,  to  reveal  the  character  of  almost 
every  part  of  the  interior.  At  the  extreme  right  is, 
undoubtedly,  the  chapel;  then,  to  the  left  of  it,  judg- 
ing from  the  corresponding  gable  on  the  nearer  side  of 
the  central  tower,  is  a high  room,  which,  as  indicated  by 
both  the  windows  and  door,  must  be  either  a library  or  a 
museum.  In  the  section  just  to  the  left  of  the  tower 


FIG.  196.— PAVILION  OF  RICHE- 
LIEU, PARIS. 

See  pages  52,  348,  358,  359, 
380. 


FIG.  197.— QUEEN’S  COLLEGE,  GALWAY. 
See  pages  84,  349,  355,  359,  360,  3S0. 


FIG.  198.— UNIVERSITY  AT  SYDNEY,  AUSTRALIA. 

See  pages  84,  324,  349,  352,  355,  359,  360,  362,  369,  380. 


352  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


comes  first,  judging  from  the  windows,  a stairway  ; then 
on  the  lower  floor,  two  rooms,  and  on  the  upper  floor,  one 
large  room  ; while  between  the  two  gables  at  the  left,  are 
three  rooms  on  the  lower  floor,  and  two  on  the  upper. 
At  least  these  are  the  interior  arrangements  which  are  indi- 
cated by  the  exterior,  and  whether  or  not  these  particular 
rooms  are  in  the  building,  the  fact  of  the  indication  of 
them  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  make  the  whole  interesting, 
which  cannot  be  affirmed  of  the  front  of  Queen’s  College, 
Galway. 

In  speaking  both  of  the  Chateau  of  Chenonceau,  Fig. 
195,  page  348,  and  of  the  University  of  Sydney,  Fig. 
198,  page  351,  reference  was  made  to  the  way  in  which 
high  long  windows  represent  high  large  rooms  like  those 
devoted  to  divine  service,  to  libraries,  or  to  museums.  In 
this  connection,  too,  it  may  be  well  to  direct  attention 
again  to  St.  Isaac’s  Church,  St.  Petersburg,  Fig.  12,  page 
35,  where,  as  was  said,  the  large  porch  and  numerous 
doors  of  the  front  suggest  preparation  for  the  entrance 
and  exit  of  large  crowds  ; while  the  great  dome  over  the 
centre  suggests  preparation  for  large  audiences  requiring 
plenty  of  air. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION  OF  MENTAL  CONCEP- 
TIONS.— ROOFS. 


Domes — False  Domes — Useless  Cupolas,  Pinnacles,  Towers,  Spires — The 
Same  Used  as  Memorials — Even  these  should  be  Artistic  and  so  Repre- 
sentative— This  Principle  as  Applied  to  Spires  and  Towers — The  Roof 
Proper — Rounded  Roofs — Roofs  as  too  Large  and  too  Small  or  Invisi- 
ble— Gutters  and  Cornices,  Plain  and  Castellated — Balustrades  as  Repre- 
senting Flat  Roofs — Visible  Roofs  in  City  Streets — Paris  Streets  and 
the  Court  of  Honor  at  the  Columbian  Exhibition — Streets  in  New  York 
— Objections  to  High  Buildings — Legislative  Methods  of  Preventing 
them — /Esthetic  Regulations  about  Sky-line,  Color,  and  Style — The 
Sky-line  and  Mansard  Roof. 


'THE  paragraph  ending  the  preceding  chapter  suggests 
a transition  to  the  subject  of  roofs,  of  which  every 
dome  is  a modification.  These,  if  apparent  at  all,  are, 
owing  to  their  situations,  necessarily  conspicuous,  and, 
for  this  reason,  afford  an  architect  an  opportunity  of 
manifesting  whatever  ability  he  may  possess  in  a con- 
spicuous way.  This  fact  explains  the  origin  of  most  of 
the  shapes  that  are  given  to  them,  as  well  as  of  the 
features  which  are  added  to  them  beyond  those  de- 
manded by  the  requirements  of  shelter.  The  dome 
in  Fig.  12,  page  35,  for  instance,  is  one  of  these  features. 
It  is  not  prompted  by  any  desire  to  secure  a useful  end. 
Merely  because  any  roof  is  conspicuous,  the  artist  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  arranging  this  one  so  as  to  appear  con- 


23 


353 


354  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

spicuously  artistic  ; and  he  produced  a form  which  may  be 
said  to  be  a result  of  imagination  as  moved  to  effort  by 
the  play-impulse  (see  Chapter  VII.,  “Art  in  Theory”). 
However,  in  the  place  where  the  dome  is,  and  over  a 
building  designed  as  is  the  one  under  it,  it  also  represents, 
as  has  been  said,  the  amplitude,  both  horizontal  and  per- 
pendicular, of  the 
space  beneath  it. 

Suppose,  how- 
ever, that  the  dome 
did  not  represent 
this  space.  Sup- 
pose that,  there- 
fore, owing  to  our 
associations  with 
domes  in  general, 
it  misrepresented 
what  was  beneath 
it.  Suppose  that 
it  was  no  dome  at 
all,  because  it  was 
solid  beneath,  and 
spanned  no  space  ; 
and  that,  therefore, 
it  manifested  no  constructive  skill  nor  any  kind  of 
technical  mastery  over  material  difficult  to  work — what 
then?  Facing  us  in  Fig.  199,  page  354,  is  one  of  two 
structures  flanking  the  Royal  Theatre  on  the  Schiller 
Platz,  Berlin.  What  this  structure  really  is,  is  not  at  all 
what  it  seems  to  be.  Neither  its  pillars  nor  any  part  of  it 
are  constructed  of  stone.  All  is  of  wood  and  stucco. 
Under  the  apparent  dome  are  only  rough  beams  and 
rafters  holding  it  up  ; and,  though  directly  behind  it  is  a 


A R CHI  TECT  UR  A L REP  RE  SEN  TA  TION. 


355 


church — the  much  smaller  and  plainer  building  to  its 
right — the  pretended  and  pretentious  entrance  in  front  of 
this  is  not  used  for  a portico  even  on  Sundays,  its  only 
apparent  object  being  to  furnish  a perfect  example  of 
architecture  that  is  not  representative. 

Without  being  so  conspicuously  out  of  place,  similar 
characteristics  are  manifested  by  any  number  of  smaller 
cupolas,  pinnacles,  towers,  and  spires  in  almost  every  city 
or  town  of  modern  construction.  Think  how  many  of 
these  are  supposed  to  add  architectural  interest  to  the 
chapels,  recitation  halls,  and  dormitories  of  our  ordinary 
American  colleges.  Notice,  for  instance,  on  the  main 
building  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  in  Fig.  179, 
page  329,  the  cheap  wooden  turrets  above  the  front  en- 
trance, and  others  at  each  side  of  the  building  above  the 
bay  windows.  Nor  does  any  aesthetic  effect  produced  by 
them  justify  the  two  large  towers — especially  towers  so 
cheaply  constructed — which  flank  the  building.  This,  as 
a whole,  would  have  manifested  more  artistic  unity,  had 
the  money  to  be  expended  been  concentrated  upon  a 
single  tower,  placed  in  the  centre,  as  in  Fig.  198,  page 
351.  Indeed,  even  in  this  latter  building,  the  general 
appearance  is  somewhat  impaired  by  the  little  towers  at 
the  sides,  unobtrusive  as  they  are.  Recall  once  more, 
too,  the  ornamental  cupola  and  ventilators  on  the  roofs  of 
the  Normal  School,  Fig.  183,  page  333  ; and  the  turrets 
on  Queen’s  College,  Galway,  Fig.  197,  page  350;  also,  the 
crowding  of  features  about  the  tower  in  Fig.  178,  page 
328.  In  none  of  these  cases  will  one  who  is  willing  to 
think  of  the  subject,  find  it  difficult  to  perceive  what  is 
meant  when  it  is  said  that,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  desire 
to  ornament  unduly,  the  impression  conveyed  would  have 
been  more  satisfactory,  because  more  simple,  strong,  and 


356  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

reposeful.  In  the  efforts  of  art  as  of  all  human  action,  it 
is  important  to  remember  that  the  fussy  is  never  consist- 
ent with  the  dignified. 

But  it  may  be  asked  now,  very  reasonably,  whether 
representation  of  the  method  of  construction  or  of  the 
internal  design  is  the  only  justification  for  using  such  fea- 
tures as  we  have  been  considering?  Take  the  dome  on 
St.  Isaac’s,  Fig.  12,  page  35.  Besides  spanning  a large 
interior  space,  does  it  not  serve  also  as  a memorial  of  the 
Head  of  the  church  and  of  His  work?  And,  as  such,  is  it 
not  as  appropriate  as  any  other  monument  erected  in 
commemoration  of  any  other  person  or  event?  And,  if 
this  be  so,  should  the  result  not  be  judged  by  the  appear- 
ance which  it  presents  rather  than  by  any  internal 
arrangement  which  it  may  be  supposed  to  represent? 

To  the  first  two  of  these  questions  an  affirmative 
answer  can  be  given  ; but  not  to  the  last  one,  except 
with  modifications;  and  for  this  reason:  The  way  in 

which  it  is  asked  shows  a misconception  of  that  which  is 
necessary  in  a monument  or  memorial.  What  is  it  that  is 
necessary?  We  can  determine  this  by  recalling  the  fact 
that  the  moment  men  erect  anything  but  the  plainest 
tombstone  sufficient  to  convey  information  concerning 
the  person  buried  beneath  it,  they  begin  to  be  actuated 
by  an  aesthetic  motive.  But  according  to  the  principles 
unfolded  in  “Art  in  Theory,”  an  aesthetic  motive  tends  to 
the  representation  both  of  material  and  of  mental  condi- 
tions. Therefore,  unless  the  dome  represent  both  the 
material  space  beneath  it,  and  the  mental  purpose  for  which 
this  is  to  be  used,  it  is,  so  far,  unsuccessful.  Notice,  too, 
that  it  fails  of  success,  as  is  true  in  all  such  cases,  on  account 
not  of  something  that  can  supposably  exist  independently 
of  the  form,  but  of  something  that  ought  to  be  under  the 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION. 


357 


form,  as  the  soul  is  under  the  body.  An  unrepresentative 
monument  is  a soulless  monument  ; and,  for  this  reason, 
unfit  to  serve  any  grand  memorial  purpose.  Architec- 
tural features  that  do  not  show  skill  in  representation, 
do  not  show  distinctively  artistic  skill,  which  is  mani- 
fested in  nothing  so  much  as  in  adapting  material  means 
to  mental  ends.  To  apply  this  principle  to  roofs,  it  is  the 
ingenuity  with  which  their  necessary  features  are  turned 
into  those  of  a dome,  as  well  as  the  difficulties  overcome 
in  doing  this,  that  gives  value  to  the  dome.  Judged  by 
this  test,  of  course,  the  Berlin  ornamental  structure  in 
Fig.  199,  page  354,  has  scarcely  any  value. 

The  same  principle  applies  to  the  spire  of  a church.  Its 
character,  too,  is  partly  useful.  It  enables  strangers  to 
know  where  to  find  a place  of  worship.  But  in  part,  also, 
especially  as  it  has  been  developed,  it  is  monumental 
and  ornamental.  For  this  reason,  care  should  be  taken 
to  have  it  appear  not  essentially  cheaper  than  the  edifice 
to  which  it  is  attached.  As  a rule,  a stone  church  should 
have  a stone  steeple,  not  a wooden  one.  On  large  public 
buildings,  again,  such  as  schools  and  colleges,  a cupola,  or 
any  like  arrangement,  can  accomplish  a useful  purpose. 
It  can  serve  for  a clock  tower,  belfry,  or  observatory.  But 
if  it  cannot  do  this,  it  would  generally  better  be  omitted. 
The  same  can  be  said  of  towers  on  houses  situated  in  city 
streets,  where  they  are  overtopped  by  surrounding  build- 
ings, or  placed  in  positions  where  they  themselves  need 
not  be  seen  from  a distance,  or  where  other  things  need 
not  be  seen  from  them  ; that  is  to  say  where  there  is  no 
possible  use  to  which  they  can  be  put.  Only  where  archi- 
tecture, which  is  a development  of  that  which  is  useful  in 
building,  turns  into  ornamental  features  things  primarily 
intended  to  be  of  use,  is  it  carrying  out  the  principles 


3 5 S PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  A RCHI TECTURE. 


of  representative  art.  When  it  is  doing  anything  else,  as 
in  arbitrarily  introducing  unnecessary  features  in  order 
thus  to  obtain  something  that  can  be  made  ornamental,  it 
is  in  danger  of  carrying  out  no  principles  of  art  whatever. 

Now  turning  from  domes,  spires,  towers,  turrets,  and 
pinnacles,  which  are  ornamental  modifications  of  the 
roof,  let  us  consider,  aside  from  these,  the  roof  alone, 
which,  in  many  forms  of  architecture,  is  itself  shaped  so 
as  to  serve  the  purposes  of  ornament.  There  is  no  need 
of  reminding  careful  observers  of  the  importance  of  the 
feature  to  be  thus  examined,  or  of  the  difficulty  experi- 
enced in  treating  it  successfully.  Many  a building  appears 
all  right  as  far  up  as  the  top  of  the  upper  story,  and  then  it 
appears  all  wrong.  There  are  several  reasons  for  this,  but 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  a chief  one  is  the  difficulty 
experienced  in  trying  to  make  the  roofs  truly  representa- 
tive. In  the  case  of  small  houses  there  is  no  great  excuse 
for  not  doing  this.  It  is  always  possible  to  make  a roof 
shaped  like  that  in  Figs.  13,  page  36;  175,  page  325;  183, 
page  333  ; 185,  page  338  ; 187,  page  340  ; 188,  page  341  ; 189, 
page  342  ; or  196,  page  349,  or  without  reference  to  the 
arrangement  of  the  cornice  and  wall  under  it  Figs.  176, 
page  326,  or  21 1,  page  3 77.  The  real  difficulty  comes  when 
there  are  large  spaces  to  be  spanned,  either  in  a single 
building  or  in  many  connected  buildings,  like  those  lining 
the  streets  of  a city  ; or  when  again,  either  in  such  build- 
ings or  in  others,  convenience  or  safety  renders  a flat  roof 
desirable. 

In  these  days,  when  we  think  of  large  spaces  to  be 
spanned,  our  minds  recur,  at  once,  to  railway  stations 
and  their  rounded  ribs,  if  not  entire  roofs,  of  iron.  To 
these  there  can  be  no  possible  aesthetic  objection.  Nor 
is  there  any  reason  why  iron  should  not  be  used  with 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


359 


smaller  roofs  of  similar  shape  (see  Fig.  196,  page  349)  ; nor 
why,  when  so  used,  the  fact  of  its  presence  should  be  con- 
cealed. Yet  this  is  often  done,  and  done  so  effectively, 
and  by  architects  whose  imaginations  are  so  incapable  of 
originating  a successful  lie,  that  the  result  is  not  only 
negatively  non-representative  but  positively  misrepresen- 
tative.  Of  course,  this  condition  can  be  satisfactorily 
changed  only  when  architects,  obliged  to  use  such  ma- 
terial, become  thoroughly  convinced  that  it  is  always 
possible  to  attain  an  aesthetic  end  without  violating  any 
first  principle  of  art  ; in  other  words,  that  it  is  possible  to 
ornament  even  iron,  and  thus,  without  introducing  any- 
thing foreign  to  utility,  and  therefore  unrepresentative, 
to  adapt  it  to  artistic  purposes.  It  is  singular,  as  intimated 
on  page  330,  that  it  has  not  yet  been  recognized  how 
chaste  and  beautiful  roofs  of  this  kind,  genuinely  con- 
structed, might  be  made  to  appear.  They  would  be  ex- 
pensive, of  course,  but  not  disproportionably  so  to  the 
carved  stone  columns  which  would  probably  accompany 
them  in  buildings  of  the  character  in  which  they  would 
appear. 

Where  the  space  to  be  spanned  is  large,  whatever  may 
be  the  material  of  the  roof,  too  much  of  it  or  too  little  of 
it  is  apt  to  be  made  visible.  For  instance,  the  effects  of 
the  Strozzi  Palace,  Fig.  194,  page  347,  and  Queen’s  Col- 
lege, Galway,  Fig.  197,  page  350,  are  rendered  unsatisfac- 
tory by  the  absence,  among  other  things,  of  a visible 
roof.  Notice  how  much  more  expressive  than  this  latter 
building,  on  account  largely  of  the  presence  of  this  feature, 
is  the  University  at  Sydney,  Fig.  198,  page  351. 

But  now,  again,  compare  the  primitive  arrangement, 
in  which  are  gutters  at  the  sides  of  the  roof,  as  in  Fig.  188, 
page  341,  and  in  Fig.  183,  page  333,  with  the  artistic  devel- 


360  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


opment  of  the  same  in  the  cornice  at  the  top  of  the  Strozzi 
Palace,  Fig.  194,  page  347,  and  also  at  the  top  of  all  the 
shops  on  the  Unter  den  Linden,  Berlin,  Fig.  191,  page 
344.  In  these  latter  buildings,  there  are  possibly  no 
gutters,  nor  any  necessity  for  them  within  the  cornice, 
because  the  whole  roofs  are  inclined  slightly  toward  the 
rear,  being  what  are  termed  flat. 

Compare  again  the  castellated  ornamentation  under  the 
visible  roof  on  the  wall  of  the  University  at  Sydney,  Fig. 


But  it  may  be  asked,  whether  there  is  no  possible 
method  of  topping  a wall  so  as  to  cause  it  to  represent 
a flat  roof  in  a less  indirect  way?  Look  at  the  bal- 
ustrade above  the  cornice  over  the  houses  at  the  right 
of  Fig.  173,  page  319,  also  over  the  building  at  the  right 
of  Fig.  201,  page  361.  What  does  a balustrade  as  thus 
indicated  represent?  What  is  it  for?  What  but  to  keep 
people  from  falling  over?  But  if  they  need  to  be  kept 


FIQ.  200.  — MEDIAEVAL  CASTLE. 

See  page  360. 


198,  page  351,  and  also  of  the 
building  facing  us  in  the  Marien 
Platz,  Munich  Fig.  190,  page 
343,  with  the  same  kind  of  orna- 
mentation at  the  top  of  Queen’s 
College,  Galway,  Fig.  197,  page 
350,  and  the  Oxford  High 
School,  Fig.  206,  page  369.  As 
originally  used,  in  the  mediaeval 
castles,  this  castellated  form  ac- 
companied a flat  roof.  See  Fig. 
200,  page  360.  Therefore,  by 
way  of  association,  in  case  no 
visible  roof  appears  above  it,  it 
may  be  said  now  to  represent  a 
flat  roof. 


FIG.  201.— MADISON  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 

See  pages  334,  360,  364,  380. 


361 


362  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


from  this,  they  must  be  expected  to  walk  on  the  roof 
behind  the  balustrade.  But  how  could  they  walk  on  a 
roof  unless  it  were  flat?  A few  questions  like  this  will 
lead  to  the  inference  that  a balustrade  naturally  repre- 
sents a flat  roof.  Now,  if  we  compare  with  this  inference, 
the  fact  that  this  sort  of  ornamentation  is  recognized  by 
almost  everybody  as,  on  the  whole,  the  most  satisfactory 
for  a wall  supporting  a flat  roof,  we  shall  have  obtained 
at  least  one  proof  that  when  by  conscious  design  or  uncon- 
scious accident  the  architect  faithfully  represents  actual 
conditions,  he  does  exactly  what  will  fulfil  the  artistic 
conceptions  of  the  majority  of  people. 

If  there  must  be  a flat  and  invisible  roof,  undoubtedly 
some  such  arrangement  as  this  is  the  best  through  which 
to  indicate  the  roof’s  exact  character.  Still,  when  a build- 
ing is  not  too  high,  the  desire  for  a visible  roof  is  natural. 
H ow  shall  it  be  embodied  in  the  result?  On  the  left  in 
The  Street  and  Belfry  in  Ghent,  Fig.  193,  page  346,  are 
arrangements  in  which  such  results  are  obtained,  but  it  is 
evident  that  they  are  hardly  feasible  where  buildings  are 
very  large,  or  where  there  are  heavy  falls  of  rain  or  snow. 
Besides  this,  it  is  a valid  aesthetic  objection  that  such 
roofs  interfere  with  the  appearance  of  a street  as  a whole, 
because  they  render  it  difficult  to  attain  effects  of  uni- 
form height.  However,  at  the  right  of  this  same  figure, 
is  a building  in  which  gables  somewhat  like  those  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  are  placed  above  a clearly 
defined  horizontal  cornice;  and  this  cornice  might  be  con- 
tinued from  building  to  building  of  the  same  height,  and 
thus  secure  a uniform  sky-line.  In  the  University  at  Syd- 
ney, Fig.  198,  page  351,  we  have  a large  roof  evidently 
constructed  on  a similar  principle;  and  in  the  Trinity 
School,  New  York,  Fig.  202,  page  363,  we  have  a smaller 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


363 


and  exceedingly  satisfactory  roof  of  the  same  kind.  When 
the  spaces  to  be  spanned  are  not  too  great,  a roof  of  this 
general  character,  is  probably  the  most  apt  to  be  success- 
ful. It  is  a genuine  roof.  In  all  regards  it  is  exactly 
what  it  seems  to  be,  with  no  contrivances  designed  to 
conceal  its  real  shape.  Moreover,  the  line  on  which  rest 
the  sills  of  the  upper  windows,  as  well  as  the  line  formed 
by  the  tops  of  the  gables,  would  render  effects  of  uniform 
height  and  therefore  of  an  unbroken  horizontal  sky-line 
possible,  were  buildings  thus  planned  arranged  in  groups 
or  on  streets. 


FIG.  202.— TRINITY  SCHOOL,  NEW  YORK. 

See  pages  323,  362,  369. 

That  these  effects  are  desirable,  any  one  who  has  seen 
the  streets  of  Paris  (see  Fig.  192,  page  345),  or  who  saw 
the  “ Court  of  Honor  ” at  the  Columbian  Exhibition  at 
Chicago  (Fig.  203,  page  365),  does  not  need  to  have  argued. 
At  Chicago,  the  universally  recognized  aesthetic  result  was 
largely  due  to  two  causes — a uniform  color  and  a uniform 
sky-line.  The  buildings  manifesting  these  were  neither  of 
uniform  sizes,  nor  styles.  Even  their  heights  were  differ- 
ent, the  Hall  of  Mechanical  Arts  overtopping  by  fully 
one  half  those  surrounding  it  (see  the  building  at  the 


364  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

left  of  Fig.  203,  page  365).  But  it  was  flanked  on  all  sides 
by  a very  wide  modification  of  a portico,  and  it  was  with 
the  height  of  this  portico  alone  that  the  other  buildings 
facing  the  Court  of  Honor  were  compared.  The  success 
of  the  arrangement  ought  to  be  recalled  by  every  archi- 
tect or  builder  who  takes  any  pride  in  the  appearance  of 
the  city  or  town  in  which  his  work  is  to  be  seen.  If  not, 
he  might  learn  a lesson  at  least  from  the  way  in  which 
the  subject  is  regarded  and  treated  in  Paris,  as  illustrated 
in  Fig.  192,  page  345.  The  general  effect  of  the  Unter 
den  Linden  in  Berlin  (Fig.  19 1,  page  344)  corresponds  very 
closely  to  that  of  one  of  our  older  American  streets ; and 
how  much  inferior  it  is  to  the  French  Boulevard  need  not 
be  argued. 

But  are  we  improving?  If  so  Fig.  201,  page  361  can 
show  us  exactly  the  direction  in  which  we  are  doing  so. 
One  who  claims  that  architecture  may  be,  and  should  be, 
representative  of  a state  of  mind,  ought  not,  perhaps,  to 
complain  of  the  appearance  of  this  street.  No  one  can 
deny  that  it  is  representative.  The  trouble  is  that  it 
does  not  represent  what  is  agreeable  or  inspiring.  It 
represents,  alas,  New  York.  It  represents  the  commercial 
spirit  entirely  overtopping  the  aesthetic  and  sanitary  in 
general  ; and  the  religious  and  domestic,  as  manifested  by 
the  church  and  house  to  the  left,  in  particular.  In  more 
senses  than  one  it  represents  selfishness  and  greed,  en- 
tirely throwing  into  the  shade  beauty,  health,  kindness, 
rationality,  and  safety.  Were  it  possible  for  any  artistic 
motive  to  appeal  to  ourlegislatures,  they  would  pass  laws 
enabling  owners  of  churches  and  houses  afflicted  as  are 
these  at  the  left  of  this  picture,  to  obtain  from  any  one 
erecting  a building  like  the  tall  one,  damages  of  an 
amount  to  render  its  erection  impossible.  Beautiful 


FIG.  203.— COURT  OF  HONOR  AT  COLUMBIAN  EXHIBITION.— “ Cosmopolitan  ” Magazine. 

See  pages  84,  203,  363,  364,  380. 


366  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE . 


building  as  it  is,  considered  only  in  itself,  it  makes  worse 
than  wasted  every  penny  ever  expended  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  the  adjoining  buildings  architectural  dignity  or 
value. 

Of  course,  nobody  can  imagine  that  our  legislators  will 
ever  be  influenced  by  aesthetic  considerations.  But  they 
might  be  reached  by  other  considerations.  To  say  noth- 
ing of  preventing  risk  to  life  through  earthquake  or  con- 
flagration in  edifices,  fireproof  too  often  only  in  name, 
some  law  should  be  found  to  prevent  robbing  one’s  near 
neighbors  of  sunshine  and  health,  as  well  as  one’s  distant 
neighbors  of  real  estate  values,  which  a less  grasping  ap- 
propriation of  fortunately  situated  lots  would  distribute 
more  generally.  In  fact,  the  conditions  are  such  that  it 
would  not  be  strange  if,  at  no  distant  date,  the  practical 
and  moral  aspects  of  the  subject,  aside  from  the  aesthetic, 
would  so  appeal  to  public  sentiment  that  offices  and  hotels 
in  these  high  buildings  would  be  as  much  avoided  as  now 
they  are  sought. 

It  may  be  urged  that  high  building  cannot  be  prevented 
in  this  country,  because  it  is  free.  But  it  is  not  free — for 
those  who  interfere  with  even  the  convenience,  not  to  say 
the  rights,  of  others.  There  is  a law  in  certain  states  of 
Germany  that  no  facade  can  be  higher  than  the  width  of 
the  street  which  it  faces.  Some  such  law  passed  in  our 
own  States,  in  order  to  secure  health  and  safety,  would  do 
this  not  only,  but  probably  attain  also  the  desired  aesthetic 
end.  Architects,  assured  that  no  building  could  exceed 
a certain  height,  would  be  quite  certain  to  prevent  other 
buildings  from  overtopping  their  own,  by  seeing  that 
theirs  were  carried  up  to  the  exact  limits  of  possibility. 
Were  this  done,  our  streets  would  have  a uniform  sky- 
line. Meantime,  while  legislation  falters,  why  should  not 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


367 


the  aesthetic  considerations  influence  individuals?  Why 
should  not  those  interested  in  the  development  of  new 
streets  have  introduced  into  the  deeds  sold  a prescribed 
height  beyond  which  facades  should  not  be  carried  ? Or, 
to  enlarge  the  question,  and  this  in  a practical  direction, 
why  should  not  trustees  of  institutions  of  learning  pass 
laws  prescribing  not  only  the  sky-line,  but  the  color  and 
style  of  new  buildings  erected  by  benefactors.  As  for  the 
style,  that  is  the  best  which,  while  securing  unity,  admits 


FIQ.  204.— WALKER  MUSEUM,  CHICAGO  UNIVERSITY-— ' ‘ Cosmopolitan  ” Magazine. 

See  pages  369,  380. 

of  the  greatest  variety  both  in  appearance  and  also  in 
costliness.  Columbia  College  has  started  out  with  an 
expensive  library,  in  the  Graeco-Roman  style,  to  be 
constructed,  of  course,  as  must  everything  in  this  style,  of 
cut  and  polished  stone.  The  question  is  whether  it  will 
be  easy  to  erect  museums,  recitation-halls,  and  possibly 
dormitories  of  various  shapes,  that  will  conform  to  this 
style  ; and  whether,  if  this  will  be  easy,  there  will  be 
money  enough  for  the  purpose  ; or,  if  so,  whether  it  will 


FIG.  205.— RYERSON  PHYSICAL  LABORATORY,  CHICAGO  UNIVERSITY.- 
d8  See  pages  369,  380. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


369 


be  wisely  expended  for  such  a purpose.  It  certainly 
seems,  at  first  thought,  that  the  authorities  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Chicago  have  adopted  a wiser  course.  Their 
buildings  are  in  the  Gothic  style.  One  peculiarity  of  this 
style  is  that  it  can  be  varied  almost  infinitely.  A num- 
ber of  buildings  can  be  constructed  either  with  towers  or 
without  them,  and  yet,  when  grouped  together,  produce 
an  effect  of  unity.  Without  approving  of  all  the  archi- 
tectural features  in  the  two 
figures,  the  reader  may  recog- 
nize the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment by  comparing  and  con- 
trasting the  buildings  in  Figs. 

204,  page  367,  and  205,  page 
368.  Notice,  also,  possible 
modifications  of  the  same 
style  — though,  of  course, 
when  a roof  is  visible  in  one 
building,  it  should  be  visible 
in  all — in  Fig.  206,  page  369  ; 

Fig.  198,  page  351  ; and  Fig. 

202,  page  363.  Another  pecu- 
liarity of  the  style  is  that  it 
admits  of  equal  variety  in 
expense.  The  stone  is  generally  uncut,  but  any  amount 
of  carving  is  admissible  in  the  elaboration  of  details.  Ob- 
serve the  tower  in  Fig.  206,  page  369.  As  a result,  a dormi- 
tory, costing  only  fifty  thousand  dollars,  may  stand  at 
the  side  of  a chapel  costing  five  hundred  thousand,  and 
yet  both  buildings  contribute  equally  to  the  harmony  of 
the  whole  series  of  buildings. 

These  remarks  have  not  been  wholly  in  the  nature  of  a 
digression.  After  what  has  been  said  of  the  importance  of 
24 


FIQ.  206. 

PUBLIC  SCHOOLS,  OXFORD,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  360,  369,  380. 


370  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


i't 


uniformity  in  color  and  style,  the  reader  will  more  fully 
realize  the  importance  of  uniformity  in  the  sky-line  ; and 
why,  therefore,  the  desire  to  secure  this  plays  so  promi- 
nent apart  in  the  shapes 
that  have  been  designed 
for  roofs.  Evidently  in 
the  Boulevard  of  St. 
Michael,  Paris,  Fig.  192, 
page  345,  this  desire  in 
connection  with  a desire 
to  render  some  part  of 
the  roof  visible,  not- 
withstanding its  gener- 
ally flat  character,  ac- 
counts for  the  method 
of  construction.  It  is 
worth  noticing,  how- 
ever, that  the  visible 
roof  does  not  pass  into 
a flat  roof  until  the 
curve  in  which  the  roof 
starts  from  the  perpen- 
dicular naturally  bends 
toward  the  horizontal. 
After  this,  for  the  roof 
to  continue  in  a hori- 
zontal direction,  does 
not  involve  any  great 
degree  of  misrepresen- 
tation. Unfortunately, 
of  the  American  imi- 
This  imitation  seems  to 
a desire  to  avoid  having  the  roof  so 


FIG.  207.— BEDFORD  BUILDING,  BOSTON. 

See  pages  323,  371,  380. 


the  same  cannot 
tation  of  this 
have  arisen  from 


be  affirmed 


arrangement. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTA  TION. 


3 71 


high  as  to  necessitate  putting  an  attic  into  it,  as  is 
done  in  the  Parisian  original.  Possibly  an  analogous 
result  could  be  attained  by  making  the  roof  bend  back- 
ward more  rapidly.  But  this  would  give  an  arch  less 
symmetrical  in  form  than  in  the  Paris  roof,  and,  for  this 
reason,  less  beautiful.  The  Bedford  building,  Fig.  207, 
page  370,  affords  a good  example  of  the  American  man- 
sard. As  will  be  perceived,  it  does  not  at  all  conceal,  as 
does  the  Paris  roof,  the  fact  that  the  roof  is  really  flat.  A 
less  satisfactory  mansard  roof  will  be  observed  over  the 
central  part  of  the  building  of  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania, Fig.  179,  page  329.  Besides  being  out  of 
keeping  with  the  style  of  the  rest  of  the  building,  the 
whole  character  of  the  construction  and  surroundings  of 
this  square  arrangement,  as  in  the  wooden  pinnacles  at 
its  corners,  shows  it  to  be  a cheap  substitute  for  that 
which,  to  accord  with  the  uses  of  the  building,  should 
have  produced  an  effect  diametrically  the  opposite. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL 
SURROUNDINGS. 


Object  of  the  Present  Chapter — Architecture  Involves  more  than  Natural 
Arrangements  for  Shelter — But  is  Developed  from  these — Rendered 
more  Representative — Primitive  Huts  as  Developed  into  the  Temples 
on  the  Acropolis — Primitive  Tents  as  Developed  into  the  Oriental 
Temples — Primitive  Rounded  and  Pointed  Arches,  Domes,  and  Spires 
• — This  Imitation  sometimes  Conscious,  sometimes  Unconscious — 
Development  of  Styles  Based  on  Straight  Lines,  Curves,  and  Angles — 
Criticism  on  the  Views  of  Helmholtz — The  Principles  of  Correspond- 
ence as  Fulfilled  in  Architectural  Forms — -Suggestive  and  Imitative 
Representation  as  Fulfilled  in  it  and  in  other  Arts— Architectural 
Examples. 

IN  Chapter  XIX.,  we  were  considering  in  what  sense 
architecture  represents  mind,  i.  e.,  the  thoughts  and 
emotions,  which  have  their  sources  in  man  in  general  and 
in  the  artist  in  particidar.  We  have  still  to  consider  how 
it  represents  external  appearances,  traceable,  in  their  final 
analysis,  to  the  material  appearances  of  nature  by  which 
the  mind  or  the  man  is  surrounded.  As  shown  in  Chapter 
VII.  of  “Art  in  Theory,”  and  as  said  many  times  in  this 
book,  all  the  arts  owe  their  existence  to  the  play  of  imagi- 
nation when  elaborating  methods  of  vocal  and  manual  ex- 
pression, which,  previously  to  their  artistic  development, 
have  reached  a certain  stage  of  non-artistic,  and,  in  this 
sense,  natural  development.  Poetry,  for  instance,  is  de- 

372 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  TERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  373 


veloped  from  unsustained  forms  of  sound,  as  in  the  articula- 
tions of  language  ; music  from  sustained  forms  of  sound  as 
in  intonations  ; painting  and  sculpture  from  manual  ex- 
pression, as  in  drawing,  coloring,  or  carving;  and  architec- 
ture from  the  same,  as  in  constructing. 

This  fact,  as  applied  to  the  latter  art,  is  sometimes  over- 
looked. While  no  one  confounds  poetry,  painting,  or 
sculpture  with  the  early  inartistic  form  of  expression  from 
which  it  is  developed,  there  are  many  who  suppose  that 
everything  used  for  the  purpose  of  shelter,  even  the 
rudest  hut  of  the  savage,  is  an  exemplification  of  architec- 
ture. But  one  might  as  well  suppose  everything  of  the 
nature  of  language  to  be  an  exemplification  of  poetry.  It 
has  a relation  to  poetry.  It  contains  the  germs  from 
which  the  art  grows  ; but  this  is  all.  So  with  the  hut  of 
the  savage,  and  with  many  constructions  more  preten- 
tious. An  ordinary  woodshed  has  no  more  to  do  with 
architecture  than  the  cry  of  our  nursery,  the  talk  of  our 
kitchen,  the  sign  of  our  barber,  or  the  rock  of  our  curb- 
stone has  to  do  with  the  respective  art  to  which  it  seems 
allied,  whether  music,  poetry,  painting,  or  sculpture. 

This  being  understood,  it  will  be  perceived  that  just  as  in 
the  essays  upon  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,”  and 
“ Music  as  a Representative  Art,”  the  artistic  methods  of 
the  arts  discussed  were  derived  from  the  previous  natural, 
in  the  sense  of  non-artistic,  uses  of  language  and  intona- 
tion, so  here  it  is  logical  to  hold  that  the  artistic  methods 
of  architecture  must  be  derived  from  the  natural,  in  the 
sense  of  non-artistic,  methods  of  building  ; in  other  words, 
from  these  as  developed  by  the  natural  as  distinguished 
from  the  artistic  man. 

Natural  construction,  like  natural  language,  is  always 
representative.  This  alone  is  a reason  why  artistic  con- 


374  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AA7D  ARCHITECTURE. 

struction  should  continue  to  be  the  same.  A cave  dis- 
covered and  used  by  a savage  may  be  a natural  dwelling; 
but  it  is  not  even  a natural  product  of  human  construction 
until  after  he  has  begun  to  change  it  in  order  to  make  it 
more  suitable  for  his  uses.  Notice,  too,  that  when  he 
has  so  changed  it  he  has  made  his  product  representative 
of  his  ideas  and  purposes,  which  fact,  as  we  have  found  in 


FIG.  208.— CHIEFS’  HOUSES,  KEREPUNA,  AUSTRALIA. 

See  pages  8o,  375,  376,  378,  386,  397. 


Chapter  XIX.,  causes  it  to  manifest  one  important  condi- 
tion necessary  to  an  artistic  result,  i.  e.,  to  represent  the 
man.  Observe  again,  too,  that,  very  soon  after  beginning 
to  make  changes  in  the  cave,  he  is  apt  to  go  beyond  the 
requirements  of  utility,  and  to  make  them  for  the  purpose 
of  introducing  ornamentation  ; moreover,  that  this  orna- 
mentation is  apt  to  assume  the  appearance  of  something 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  375 


that  he  has  seen  elsewhere ; and  that,  when  this  is  the 
case,  it  represents  not  only  himself,  but  something  that  is 
outside  of  himself,  something  that  belongs  to  the  visible 
universe  ; something  which,  when  making  a distinction 
between  it  and  mind,  we  are  accustomed  to  term  nature. 
In  these  circumstances,  both  the  mental  and  material 
conditions  are  present,  which,  as  maintained  throughout 
these  essays,  are  necessary  to  the  production  of  art  of  the 


FIG.  209.— RESTORATION  OF  THE  WEST  END  OF  THE  ACROPOLIS,  ATHENS. 

See  pages  376,  380,  386,  387,  397,  407, 

highest  quality  ; and  it  is  then,  too,  as  shown  in  the  carved 
face  of  the  cave  in  Fig.  171,  page  315,  and  in  the  carved 
pillars  of  the  cave’s  interior  in  Fig.  172,  page  317,  and  as 
explained  on  page  316,  that  we  have  the  beginnings  of  the 
art  of  architecture. 

But  caves  are  not  the  only  natural  forms  of  shelter  which 
can  be  rendered  artistic.  Fig.  208,  page  374,  shows  us  a 
natural  way  of  using  the  trunks  of  trees  with  coverings  so 


376  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

as  to  shield  from  sunshine  and  shed  water.  Fig.  209,  page 
375,  shows  us  what  is  evidently  only  an  artistic  develop- 
ment of  the  same  forms.  Is  it  necessary  to  argue  that 
the  motive  which,  as  in  Figs.  1 7 1 and  172,  caused  men  to 
carve  the  stone  of  the  caves  without  or  within,  so  as  to 
represent  wooden  beams  and  pillars,  was  exactly  the  same 
as  that  which  caused  the  architects  of  artistic  buildings 
like  those  in  Fig.  209  to  represent  in  stone  the  wooden 
methods  of  construction,  such  as  are  seen  in  Fig.  208? 


FIG.  210.— TENT  OF  EASTERN  ASIA. 

See  pages  376,  386. 

Look,  again,  at  the  shape  of  the  tent  in  Fig.  210,  page 
376;  it  is  taken  from  Cassell’s  “Across  Thibet,”  and 
represents  the  tent  ordinarily  used  all  over  Asia  to-day. 
Now  look  at  the  shape  of  the  roofs  in  Fig.  21 1,  page  377. 
This  shape  will  be  found  repeated  in  every  temple  and 
palace  in  eastern  Asia,  almost  without  exception.  More- 
over, whenever  we  visit  palaces  or  temples  in  that  part  of 
the  world,  we  find,  as  a rule,  not  one  large  structure,  but, 
instead  of  this,  in  one  large  enclosure,  dozens  and  scores 
of  structures,  none  of  them  of  superlative  size.  This  fact 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  377 


of  itself,  but  especially  in  connection  with  the  sagging 
roofs,  would  be  enough  to  enable  us  to  detect  the  source 
from  which  these  forms  have  developed,  even  aside  from 
the  description  in  the  Old  Testament  of  the  reproduction 
not  only,  but  the  representation  of  the  tent-tabernacle 
of  the  wilderness  in  the  elaborate  permanent  temple  at 
Jerusalem. 


FIG.  211.—' WINTER  PALACE,  PEKIN. 
See  pages  358,  376,  380,  386. 


So  we  could  probably  go  through  all  of  our  present 
styles  of  architecture  and  detect  in  them  no  more  than 
legitimate  artistic  developments  of  methods  that  might 
be  termed  non-artistic  or  natural.  Two  primitive  roof- 
forms  have  been  noticed.  Figs.  212,  page  379,  and  213, 
page  381,  will  show  us  primitive  domes — the  first  in  the 


378  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


form  of  a rounded  arch,  and  the  second  in  that  of  a pointed 
arch.  Notice,  too,  the  arched  doorway  in  Fig.  213.  Figs. 
214,  page  383,  and  208,  page  374,  again  will  show  us  primi- 
tive turrets  or  spires.  The  former  have  exactly  the  same 
shape,  too,  as  some  in  Figs.  184,  page  335,  and  195,  page  348. 

It  is  not  meant  to  be  maintained  here  that  all  archi- 
tects who  first  used  the  dome  or  pointed  spire,  or  windows 
with  round  or  pointed  arches,  did  so  because  they  had 
personally  seen  among  savage  tribes  similar  constructions, 
which  they  consciously  imitated.  The  same  cause  that, 
among  the  savages,  would  operate  to  make  those  using 
cheap  material  build  with  a round  or  pointed  arch, 
would  operate  also  among  those  using  costly  material. 
All  that  it  is  intended  to  maintain,  is,  that  these  several 
forms  are  first  adopted  in  order  to  meet  certain  require- 
ments of  nature  ; and  afterwards  are  imitated  and  orna- 
mentally developed  in  order  to  meet  artistic  requirements. 

In  his  “Sensations  of  Sound,”  while  discussing  a ques- 
tion of  comparative  aesthetics,  Helmholtz  gives  a very  clear 
statement  of  the  commonly  accepted  view  which  attributes 
Greek  architecture  alone  to  the  actual  imitation  of  wooden 
buildings.  Afterwards,  according  to  him,  the  other  styles 
were  developed  from  this  style.  His  statement  is  worth 
quoting.  “ The  whole  analysis  and  arrangement  of  their 
decorations,”  he  says,  referring  to  the  Greeks,  “ clearly 
show  that  it  was  their  intention  to  imitate  wooden  con- 
structions. The  verticality  of  the  supporting  columns, 
the  general  horizontality  of  the  supported  beam  forced 
them  to  arrange  all  the  subordinate  parts  for  the  great 
majority  of  cases  in  vertical  and  horizontal  lines.1  The 


1 Those  not  familiar  with  the  styles  of  architecture  to  which  reference  is 
made  in  this  passage  and  elsewhere  in  this  book  will  find  illustrations  of 
Greek  architecture  (based  on  the  horizontal  line)  of  the  Doric  order  in  Figs. 


FIG.  21 2. — HOTTENTOT  KRALL. 

See  pages  80,  377,  384. 


3S0  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

purposes  of  Greek  worship,  which  performed  its  principal 
functions  in  the  open  air,  were  satisfied  by  erections  of 
this  kind,  in  which  the  internal  spaces  were  necessarily 
limited  by  the  length  of  the  stone  or  wooden  beams 
which  could  be  employed.  The  old  Italians  (Etruscans), 
on  the  other  hand,  discovered  the  principle  of  the  arch 
composed  of  wedge-shaped  stones.  This  discovery  ren- 
dered it  possible  to  cover  in  much  more  extensive  build- 

14,  page  36  ; 204,  page  375  ; and  215,  page  387.  The  main  difference  be- 
tween this  and  the  Ionic  order  is  sufficiently  indicated  by  the  capital  in  Fig. 
216,  page  38S,  and  between  it  and  the  Corinthian  order  in  the  capitals  in 
Figs.  11,  page  34,  and  226,  page  394.  The  composite  order  had  a capital 
similar  to  the  Corinthian,  but  crowned  at  the  top  with  an  Ionic  scroll  (Fig. 
216,  page  3S8).  Roman  architecture,  which  added  to  Greek  forms  the  round 
arch,  is  well  represented  by  the  building  at.  the  left  of  Fig.  203,  page  365,  its 
central  entrance  being  an  exact  reproduction  of  a Roman  triumphal  arch. 
The  Greeco-Roman  style  included  both  pillars  and  entablatures  with  arched 
forms  as  in  Figs.  12,  page  35,  and  199,  page  354.  The  last  two  styles  are 
often  included  in  what  is  termed  the  Renaissance,  by  which  is  indicated  the 
result  of  the  fifteenth  century’s  revival  mainly  of  Roman  architecture,  though 
it  does  not  necessarily,  as  in  Fig.  196,  page  349,  involve  the  use  of  an  arch. 
See  Figs.  173,  page  319  ; 176,  page  326  ; 192,  page  345  ; and  201,  page  361.  The 
Romanesque  style  has  the  round  arch,  but  seldom  the  entablature.  Its  By- 
zantine form  may  be  seen  in  Figs.  15,  page  37,  and  40,  page  81.  Its  Norman 
form  is  approximated  in  Figs.  184,  page  335,  and  207,  page  370.  See  also 
Figs.  218,  page  390;  219,  page  391  ; and  25,  page  53.  The  Gothic,  based 
on  the  pointed  arch  may  be  seen  in  its  earlier  pointed  form  in  Figs.  41,  page 
81,  and  3,  page  24  ; and  in  its  later  decorated  form  in  Figs.  43,  page  S4,  144, 
page  205,  and  220,  page  392.  A modern  development  of  this  may  be  noticed 
in  Fig.  24,  page  52,  while  one  building  in  Fig.  190,  page  343,  and  the 
tower  in  Fig.  193,  page  346,  show  characteristics  both  of  the  pointed  and 
later  styles.  Perpendicular  Gothic,  developed,  soon,  into  the  florid  and  also 
Tudor,  is  well  illustrated  in  Fig.  234,  page  404,  and  by  the  window  only  in 
Fig.  43,  page  84.  Notice  also  Figs.  13,  page  36;  198,  page  351  ; and  206, 
page,  369.  The  more  debased  Elizabethan  style  used  mainly  in  non-ecclesi- 
astical  buildings,  may  be  seen  in  Fig.  197,  page  350  ; and  modern  Gothic  in 
Figs.  204,  page  367,  and  205,  page  368.  The  Davidian  Indian  style  is  illus- 
trated in  Figs.  232,  page  400,  and  233,  page  401,  and  the  most  characteristic 
phase  of  the  Oriental  in  Fig.  211,  page  377. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  38 1 
ines  with  arched  roofs  than  the  Greeks  could  do  with 

o 

their  wooden  beams.  Among  these  arched  buildings  the 
halls  of  justice  (basilicas)  became  important,  as  is  well 


FIG.  213.— KAFFIR  STATION,  AFRICA. 

See  pages  377,  378,  384. 

known,  for  the  subsequent  development  of  architecture. 
The  arched  roof  made  the  circular  arch  the  chief  principle 
in  division  and  decoration  for  Roman  (Byzantine)  art. 
The  columns,  pressed  by  heavy  weights,  were  transformed 


382  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^ 7VZ?  ARCHITECTURE. 


into  pillars  on  which,  after  the  style  was  fully  developed, 
columns  merely  appeared  in  diminished  forms,  half  sunk 
in  the  mass  of  the  pillar,  as  merely  decorative  articulations 
and  as  the  downward  continuations  of  the  ribs  of  the 
arches,  which  radiated  towards  the  ceiling  from  the  upper 
end  of  the  pillar.  In  the  arch,  the  wedge-shaped  stones 
press  against  each  other,  but,  as  they  all  press  inwards, 
each  one  prevents  the  other  from  falling.  The  most  power- 
ful and  most  dangerous  degree  of  pressure  is  exerted  by 
the  stones  in  the  horizontal  parts  of  the  arch,  where  they 
have  either  no  support,  or  no  obliquely  placed  support, 
and  are  prevented  from  falling  solely  by  the  greater  thick- 
ness of  their  upper  extremities.  In  very  large  arches,  the 
horizontal  middle  portion  is  consequently  the  most  dan- 
gerous, and  would  be  precipitated  by  the  slightest  yield- 
ing of  the  materials.  As  then  mediaeval  ecclesiastical 
structures  assumed  continually  larger  dimensions,  the  idea 
occurred  of  leaving  out  the  middle  horizontal  part  of  the 
arch  altogether  and  of  making  the  sides  ascend  with 
moderate  obliquity,  until  they  met  in  a pointed  arch. 
From  thenceforward,  the  pointed  arch  became  the  domi- 
nant principle.  The  building  was  divided  into  sections 
externally  by  the  projecting  buttresses.  These  and  the 
omnipresent  pointed  arch  made  the  outlines  hard,  and  the 
churches  became  enormously  high.  But  both  characters 
suited  the  vigorous  minds  of  the  northern  nations,  and, 
perhaps,  the  very  hardness  of  the  forms,  thoroughly  sub- 
dued by  that  marvellous  consistency  which  runs  through 
the  varied  magnificence  of  form  in  a Gothic  cathedral, 
served  to  heighten  the  impression  of  immensity  and  power. 
We  see  then  how  the  technical  discoveries  which  were 
associated  with  the  problems  as  they  rose  successively 
created  three  entirely  distinct  principles  of  style — the 


FIG  214.— NEGRO  HUTS,  KOUROUNDINQ  KOTO,  SOUDAN. 

See  pages  80,  378,  384. 


384  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

horizontal  line,  the  circular  arch,  and  the  pointed  arch, 
and  how,  at  each  new  change  in  the  main  plan  of  con- 
struction, all  the  subordinate  individualities  down  to  the 
smallest  decorations  were  altered  accordingly ; and  hence 
how  the  individual  rules  of  construction  can  only  be  com- 
prehended from  the  general  principles  of  construction.” 
Any  one  inclined  to  accept  this  statement,  need  but 
glance  again  at  Figs.  212,  page  379  ; 213,  page  381,  and  214, 
page  383,  to  recognize  that  the  same  argument  which  makes 
Greek  architecture  a development  of  primitive  hut-forms, 
could  make  Romanesque  and  Gothic  architecture  the 
same.  Moreover,  it  is  not  true,  historically,  that,  even  as 
used  among  the  civilized,  the  pointed  arch  first  appears  in 
the  mediaeval  ecclesiastical  structures.  According  to 
Gwilt’s  “ Encyclopaedia  of  Architecture,”  “ The  pointed 
arch  is  used  throughout  the  mosque  erected  by  the  Calif 
Walidat  Jerusalem  in  the  year  87,  or  about  A. D.  705.”  He 
states  also  that  “the  aqueducts  that  supplied  Constanti- 
nople with  water,  which  were  commenced  under  Con- 
stantine immediately  after  the  founding  of  the  city,  but 
completed  under  Valens,  A.D.  364  and  378,  exhibit  pointed 
arches.”  In  addition  to  this  it  may  be  said  that,  even 
were  all  architectural  styles  except  the  Greek  developed 
from  previously  existing  styles,  one  reason  for  this  would 
be  that  the  moment  a style  of  architecture  comes  into 
general  use,  it  becomes  one  of  the  surrounding  appear- 
ances, influencing  the  man  who  sees  it.  At  the  same 
time,  it  could  seldom  be  the  only  appearance  surrounding 
him,  or  exerting  an  influence  upon  him  ; and  any  architect 
who  saw,  side  by  side,  a Greek  temple  and  a hut  with  a 
rounded  roof,  might,  according  to  the  degree  of  his 
originality,  be  inclined  to  imitate  the  latter.  Always, 
however,  were  he  acquainted  with  the  methods  of  Greek 


REP  RE  SEN  TA  7' ION  OF  MA  TER/A  L S URR  0 UN  DINGS.  385 

construction,  he  would  construct  that  which  he  imitated, 
though  a form  that  was  not  Greek,  according  to  the 
Greek  methods.  There  is  this  much  truth,  therefore,  in 
the  statement  of  Helmholtz.  All  architectural  forms  are 
developments  of  previously  existing  forms.  But  while 
some  of  these  are  architectural,  others  of  them  are  of  that 
primitive  character  which  we  have  termed  natural. 

In  accordance,  now,  with  everything  that  has  been  said 
in  this  volume,  let  us  notice  the  order  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  representation  of  appearances  in  architecture 
as  fulfilling  the  principles  of  correspondence  by  way,  first, 
of  association  or  suggestion  ; and,  later,  of  comparison 
or  imitation.  On  page  8 it  was  said  that  in  association 
things  are  connected  that  have  a like  general  effect,  though 
they  may  not  seem  alike  in  their  details  ; whereas  in  com- 
parison things  are  connected  that  in  their  details  as  well 
as  in  their  general  effects  seem  alike.  In  strict  conformity 
with  this  order  of  representative  development,  notice  that 
in  poetry,  music,  painting,  and  sculpture,  the  first  effect 
which  the  primitive  artist  tries  to  reproduce  is  a general 
outline  of  something,  either  of  a story,  or  of  a method  of 
intonation,  as  in  a rude  ballad  or  chant ; or  of  a figure  of 
a man  or  a beast,  as  in  a rude  sketch  by  pencil  or  chisel. 
Notice,  too,  that  even  when  the  desire  for  ornamentation  is 
quite  strong,  he  ornaments,  at  first,  only  the  very  apparent 
factors  or  features,  as  in  measures  and  verses,  or  in  colors 
and  shadings.  The  early  poet  does  not  usually  give  that 
careful  attention  to  minutiae,  which  in  more  civilized  times 
causes  a distinctively  poetic  style,  and  he  never  has  what 
is  termed  a flowery  style,  by  which,  as  usually  interpreted, 
is  meant  a style  excessively  full  of  comparisons.  Nor 
does  the  earlier  musician  make  any  attempt  at  the  signifi- 
cant accompaniments  and  florid  variations  which  come 
25 


386  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


later ; nor  does  the  earlier  painter  or  sculptor  imitate  in 
color  or  line  the  less  obvious  appearances  of  surfaces  and 
textures.  So  with  architects.  The  Assyrian,  Indian, 
Egyptian,  Grecian,  and  Gothic  builders,  all  started  with 
representation  merely  in  general  effects , such,  for  instance, 
as  justify  us  in  saying  that  the  forms  in  Fig.  209,  page 
375,  resemble  those  in  Fig.  208,  page  374,  or  the  forms  in 
Fig.  21 1,  page  377,  resemble  those  in  Fig.  210,  page  376. 
Even  long  after  pillars  were  given  capitals  and  care  was 
taken  with  the  arrangements  of  entablatures  and  pedi- 
ments, no  ornamentation  appeared  except  in  the  way  of 
giving  additional  emphasis  to  their  necessary  character- 
istics, as  in  Fig.  14,  page  36-  But  just  as  the  straight 
onward  flow  of  poetic  style  begins,  after  it  passes  the 
ballad  period,  to  be  filled  up  with  allusions,  mainly  associa- 
tive and  suggestive,  and  after  that  with  imitative  descrip- 
tions of  flowers,  plants,  streams,  mountains,  and  the  various 
men  and  living  creatures  that  can  be  seen  surrounding 
one,  so  the  straight  onward  lines  of  architectural  style, 
when  it  gets  beyond  the  archaic  period,  begin  to  be 
filled  up  with,  first,  associative  suggestions,  and  after  that 
with  careful  imitations  of  the  appearances  of  nature.  As 
Samson  says,  in  his  “ Elements  of  Art  Criticism,”  “ In 
Egyptian  structures,  temples,  walls,  and  pylons,  as  well  as 
obelisks  and  pyramids,  slope  inward  from  the  base  to  the 
summit,  according  to  the  law  of  strength  suggested  by 
nature  in  the  trunks  of  trees,  jutting  rocks,  and  mountain 
peaks.”  But  in  later  developments  of  these  columns  “the 
French  savans  of  A.D.  1798  detected  three  classes,  and 
named  them  after  the  object  in  nature  from  which  their 
capitals  were  modelled  : first,  the  lotus-bud  capital,  copied 
from  the  closed  bud  of  the  water  lily  ; second,  the  lotus- 
flower  capital,  or  open  lotus  ; and  third,  the  Osiride  capital, 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  38 7 


presenting  a four-faced  head  of  the  god  Osiris.  Some  of 
the  capitals,  again,  used  in  shafts  in  the  temple  at  Jerusa- 
lem, were  formed  of  lily  work  and  rows  of  pomegranates. 
Callimachus  is  said  to  have  had  the  shape  of  the  capital 
used  on  the  shafts  of  the  Corinthian  order” — a late  de- 
velopment again — (see  Fig.  226,  page  394)  “ suggested  to 
him  by  seeing  the  shape  assumed  by  an  acanthus  growing 
up  over  a basket  that  happened  to  be  placed  over  it.” 


FIG.  215.— GREEK  DORIC  TEMPLE  OF  /EGINA. 
See  pages  380,  389,  396. 


As  illustrating  the  order  in  which  these  different 
methods  of  ornamentation  appear,  notice- — what  without 
illustration  the  mind  might  recognize  to  be  necessarily 
true — that  only  general  outlines  are  at  first  represented, 
as  in  the  framework  on  the  outside  of  the  cave,  Fig.  171, 
page  315,  and  even  in  the  arrangements  of  the  front  of  the 
temples  in  Fig.  209,  page  375,  and  14,  page  36.  Observe, 
too,  the  unornamented  character  of  the  pillars  and  pedi- 


388  PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


ment  of  the  latter,  as  well  as  in  the  example  of  Roman- 
esque pillars  in  Fig.  218,  page  390,  and  of  Gothic  pillars 

in  Fig.  43,  page  84. 

Very  soon,  however, 
the  imagination  begins 
to  play  with  the  details 
of  form.  The  first  re- 
sult of  this  is  to  produce 
a style  of  ornamentation 
which  is  termed  conven- 
tional because,  when 
once  introduced,  it  be- 
comes the  fashion,  and 
is  adopted  as  decisively 
as  if  by  vote  in  conven- 
tion. In  this  style  from 
the  very  start,  however, 
there  are  indications  of 
certain  vague  sugges- 
tions derived  from  the 
general,  though  not  spe- 
cific, appearances  of  na- 
ture. But,  at  the  same 
time,  the  human  desire 
for  rational  regularity 
(see  page  94)  asserts 
itself  so  strongly  that 
the  results  are  termed 
geometric  rather  than 
imitative.  Notice  such 
conventional  forms, 
slightly  suggestive  of 
outlines  in  tropical 
plants,  in  the  pillars  of  the  Indian  cave  at  Elephanta, 


FIG.  216.— GREEK  IONIC  ORDER. 

See  pages  380,  389. 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  TERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  389 


Fig.  172,  page  317,  pillars,  the  general  appearance  of 
which,  as  all  familiar  with  the  subject  know,  could  be 
duplicated,  if  necessary,  from  remains  in  Assyria  and 
Egypt.  More  important  for  us  to  notice  is  the  ornamen- 
tation of  the  Greek  Ionic  pillar  (Fig.  216,  page  388),  which 
was  developed  later  than  that  of  the  Doric  order  as  in 
Fig.  215,  page  387.  Observe,  too,  the  conventional  antefix 
in  marble  over  the  centre 
of  the  front  pediment  of 
the  Greek  Doric  temple  of 
^Egina,  Fig.  215,  page  387, 
but  especially  in  Fig.  217, 
page  389.  Almost  every 
Doric  temple,  however, 
illustrates  a fact  that  must 
always  be  borne  in  mind 
when  studying  architec- 
ture. This  is  that  a style 
continues  to  be  the  same 
for  years  after  certain  ten- 
dencies derived  from  it 
have  been  developed  so 
far  in  some  buildings  that 
it  might  be  supposed  that 
they  would  have  exerted 
an  influence  upon  all  build- 
ings. This  temple  of  JEgi- 

na  had  features  not  immediately  used  elsewhere.  Un- 
like the  later  Theseum  (Fig.  14,  page  36),  over  whose 
eaves  were  forms  made  in  the  style  of  Fig.  217,  it 
had  partly  imitative  forms  (Fig.  222,  page  393);  and 
unlike  many  Doric  temples,  it  contained  wholly  imitative 
statues  in  the  pediment  (Fig.  215,  page  387).  But  to 
return  to  the  illustrations  of  conventional  forms,  notice 


FIQ.  217.— ANTEFIX  OF  MARBLE,  TEMPLE 
OF  /CGINA. 

See  pages  389,  398. 


390  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

the  capitals  on  the  Romanesque  pillars  on  each  side  of  the 
doorway  in  h ig.  218,  page  390,  and  on  the  small  pillars  in 
the  partly  Romanesque  interior  in  Fig.  219,  page  391  ; also 
on  the  pillars  in  the  pointed  interior,  Fig.  3,  page  24,  as  well 
as  the  whole  combination  of  forms  in  Fig.  220,  page  392, 


FIQ.  218.  DOORWAY  TROITZKA  MONASTERY,  RUSSIA. 

See  pages  380,  388,  390. 


representing  an  interior  in  that  early  decorated  Gothic 
style  which  preceded  the  extensive  use  of  such  details 
as  are  illustrated  in  Fig.  230,  page  395,  and  Fig.  231, 
page  396. 

A little  later,  as  originally  used,  though  often,  as  found 
now,  in  the  same  buildings  with  these  conventional  forms, 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  TERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  39 1 


which  long  continue  to  be  in  vogue,  come  forms  that  are 
distinctly  imitative.  Yet,  at  first,  the  imitation  is  only 
partial.  That  is,  parts  of  certain  natural  forms  are  copied, 
but  they  are  not  put  together  as  in  nature.  This  fact  is 


FIG.  219.— INTERIOR  OF  SAN  VITALE,  RAVENNA. 

See  pages  380,  390. 


particularly  evident  in  the  representations  of  living 
figures ; and  the  principle  manifested  is  so  universally 
exemplified  among  the  architects  of  all  civilized  countries, 


FIQ.  220.— CHOIR  OF  ELY  CATHEDRAL,  ENGLAND. 

See  pages  78,  380,  390,  405. 

392 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  393 


while  the  particular  applications  of  the  principle  are  so 
different  that  it  seems  as  if  it  can  only  be  ascribed  to  a 


FIQ.  221.— PORTAL  AT  PERSEPOLIS, 
PERSIA. 


FIG.  222. — ACEOTERIUM  AND  GUTTER, 
TEMPLE  OF  /EGINA. 


See  pages  393,  398. 


See  pages  389,  393,  398. 


natural  tendency  invariably  characterizing  a certain  stage 
of  architectural  development.  Notice  the  combination  of 
the  man,  four-footed  beast,  and  bird  in  the  illustration 


from  Persian  architecture 
in  Fig.  221,  page  393  ; of 
the  four-footed  beast  and 
bird  in  the  Egyptian,  Fig. 
223,  page  393,  of  the  same 
in  the  Greek,  Fig.  222, 
page  393  ; and  of  the  same 
in  the  gargoyle,  which,  as 
produced  in  Cologne  Ca- 
thedral, is  imitated  from  a 


FIG.  223.— EGYPTIAN  HIERACO  SPHINX. 

See  pages  393,  39S. 


394  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


style  common  in  the  earlier  Gothic  architecture,  in  Fig.  224, 
page  394.  Some,  whose  attention  has  never  been  directed 


FIG-  224.— GARGOYLE  FROM 
CATHEDRAL,  COLOGNE. 

See  pages  393,  394,  398. 


FIG.  225.— CAPITAL  FROM  A TOMB 
AT  PERSE POLIS,  PERSIA. 

See  pages  394,  398. 


to  the  subject,  will  probably  be  surprised  to  find  such 
forms  in  Greek  architecture.  Yet  there  they  are.  Still 
later  than  these  partially  imitated  figures,  though  now,  of 


course,  often  found  in  the 
same  buildings  with  them, 
come  those  that  are  fully  im- 
itated. On  the  border  line 


FIG.  226.— GREEK  CORINTHIAN  CAPITAL. 

See  pages  380,  387,  396. 


FIG.  227-— TEMPLE  ATIPSAMBOOL,  EGYPT. 

See  pages  396,  398. 


between  the  two,  we  can  place  the  Persian  capital  in  Fig. 
225,  page  394,  the  Egyptian  lotus-leaf  capital  in  Fig.  10, 


FIG.  228.— CAPITAL  AT  DEN- 
DERAH,  EGYPT. 


FIG.  229.— GIANTS,  TEMPLE  OF 
AQRIQENTUM. 


See  pages  396,  398. 


See  pages  396,  398. 


FIG.  230.— CAPITAL  FROM  CATHEDRAL  AT  RHEIMS,  FRANCE. 

See  pages  390,  396,  398. 


395 


396  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


page  34,  and  the  Greek  Corinthian  capital,  developed 
later  than  either  the  Doric  or  Ionic,  in  Fig.  226, 

page  394.  As  fully  exempli- 
fying this  tendency,  notice 
the  Egyptian  temple  at  Ip- 
sambool,  Fig.  227,  page  394, 
which  might  be  paralleled 
by  examples  from  India  and 
Assyria  ; the  later  Egyptian 
capital  from  Denderah,  Fig. 
228,  page  395  ; the  giants  from 
the  Greek  temple  of  Zeus  at 
Agrigentum,  Fig.  229,  page 
395,  to  which  might  be  added 
the  well-known  caryatides  in 
the  Erechtheum  at  Athens, 
not  to  speak  of  the  figures  in 
pediments,  and  entablatures, 
as  illustrated  in  Figs.  148, 
page  223,  and  2 1 5,  page  387; 
and,  finally,  the  method  of 
dealing  with  forms,  which  we 
find  in  the  later  decorated  Gothic,  as  in  the  capital  and 
the  corbel  from  the  cathedral  at  Rheims,  in  Fig.  230,  page 
395,  and  Fig.  231,  page  396. 


FIG.  231.— CORBEL  FROM  CATHE- 
DRAL AT  RHEIMS,  FRANCE. 

See  pages  38,  390,  396,  398. 


r 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


ARCHITECTURAL  REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL 
SURROUNDINGS  CONTINUED. 


The  Order  of  Representative  Development  in  Architecture — Styles  Imita- 
ting Appearances  in  Nature — Testimony  of  Facts — Applied  to  Interiors 
and  Exteriors — Developments  of  the  Imitative  in  the  other  Arts — Pos- 
sibilities of  its  Development  in  Architecture New  Uses  of  Metals — 

The  Development  of  the  Tendency  might  not  Improve  the  Art — Would 
Necessitate  the  Exercise  of  Genius — What  are  Valid  Arguments  against 
such  Developments — Sincerity  in  the  Use  of  Material,  Natural  Woods, 
etc. — Use  of  Material  Natural  to  a Locality — Conclusion. 

J\  S shown  in  Chapter  XX.,  artistic  representation  in 
architecture  begins  by  reproducing  in  a compara- 
tively imperishable  material,  constructions  previously 
erected  in  a perishable  one.  This  representation  is  made 
accurate,  if  possible,  as  in  the  framework  in  Fig.  171,  page 
315.  But  often  the  very  character  of  the  differences  in- 
volved makes  accuracy  infeasible  if  not  impossible.  The 
Greek  temples  in  Fig.  209,  page  375,  reproduce  such  huts 
as  are  in  Fig.  208,  page  374,  but  only  suggestively,  in 
general  outline.  Very  soon,  however,  as  we  have  found, 
and  very  naturally  too,  the  representative  tendency  thus 
started  into  activity,  manifests  its  presence  by  leading, 
usually  in  the  way  of  ornamentation,  to  the  reproduc- 
tion of  other  surrounding  objects,  objects  not  produced 
by  men.  At  first,  these  objects  are  only  suggested, 


397 


398  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^ArZ)  ARCHITECTURE. 


so  that,  in  seeing  them,  one  merely  associates  them 
with  the  natural  forms  which  they  resemble.  In  this 
ivay,  the  leaves  of  certain  flowers  are  suggested,  as  by 
the  capitals  in  Figs,  io,  page  34;  11,  page  34;  and  the 
antenx  in  Fig.  2 1 7,  page  389.  So  too  actual  living  animals 
are  suggested,  as  by  the  combinations  in  Figs.  221,  page 
393  ; 222,  page  393  ; 223,  page  393  ; 224,  page  394 ; and  225 
page  394.  Later,  however,  these  represented  objects  are 
actually  imitated  from  objects  seen  in  nature,  as  in  Figs. 
227,  page  394  ; 228,  page  395  ; 229,  page  395  ; 230,  page 
395  ; and  231,  page  396. 

If  now  we  suppose  that  the  styles  of  buildings  consid- 
ered as  wholes  develop  in  an  analogous  way,  it  will  lead 
us  to  infer  that  after  a style  has  been  determined  by  the 
appearances  of  huts  constructed  by  the  non-artistic  man, 
there  will  come  a time  when  it  will  be  determined  by 
appearances  not  constructed  by  men  but  perceived  in 
nature;  and  that  these  appearances  will  be  represented  at 
first  suggestively  by  way  of  association,  and  later  imita- 
tively  by  way  of  comparison. 

Can  this  inference  thus  logically  deducible  from  the 
analogies  of  the  other  arts  be  confirmed  by  facts  ? Why 
can  it  not  ? The  simple  truth  seems  to  be  that  the  changes 
from  the  style  of  building  determined  by  the  use  of  the 
horizontal  line,  the  circular  arch,  and  the  pointed  arch, 
were  not  caused  merely  by  the  necessities  of  construction, 
as  declared  by  Helmholtz  on  page  378,  nor  merely  by  the 
appearances  of  straight,  round,  or  pointed  forms  in  cheaper 
human  constructions  as  intimated  on  page  384,  but  also  by 
the  appearances  of  similar  forms  in  nature.  The  exact 
effect  given  to  the  nave  of  a Gothic  cathedral  cannot 
be  attributable  merely  to  a development  of  methods  of 
construction,  nor  to  an  imitation  of  cheaper  buildings.  It 


REPRESENTA  TION  OF  MA  TERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  399 

is  an  indisputable  fact  that  an  avenue  of  trees  with  bend- 
ing branches  often  suggests  to  one  who  has  seen  such 
a nave  a Gothic  nave.  Compare  Fig.  44,  page  85,  with 
Fig.  43,  page  84.  If  it  does  so  in  our  age  to  the  ordi- 
nary observer,  why  could  it  not  have  done  so  in  the 
middle  ages  to  the  first  Gothic  builder?  Those  who 
deny  that  it  could  do  this,  or  who  ridicule,  as  they  do, 
the  statement  that  it  might,  would  have  difficulty  in 
making  most  men  believe  that  they  could  recognize 
any  conclusion  whatever  attainable  as  a result  of  only 
logic  or  insight.  Notice  also  Fig.  9,  page  33. 

The  representation  causing  us  to  connect  the  effect  of 
a cathedral  nave  with  that  of  an  avenue  of  trees  is  of  the 
same  character  as  that  which  has  been  shown  to  be  true 
of  any  representation  of  natural  objects  when  first  at- 
tempted. We  merely  associate  the  nave  with  the  natural 
appearances  which  it  merely  suggests.  It  does  not  compare 
with  these  in  the  sense  of  being  an  exact  imitation.  The 
same  principle  may  be  exemplified,  too,  as  applied  to  ex- 
teriors. Notice  the  general  form  of  the  temple  in  Fig. 
232,  page  400,  and  more  minutely  the  details  of  the  same 
style  as  enlarged  in  Fig.  233,  page  401.  Then  look  at  the 
general  effect  of  the  Tissington  spires  represented  in  Fig. 
32,  page  67,  and  in  connection  with  doing  so,  recall,  as 
related  to  the  second  figure,  the  detailed  effects  of  rocks 
stratified  in  layers  with  which  all  of  us  who  have  ever  seen 
cliffs  or  precipices  cannot  fail  to  be  familiar.  After  com- 
paring the  art-products  with  such  appearances  of  nature, 
is  it  difficult  for  any  one  who  understands  the  natural 
workings  of  the  mind  to  perceive  a subtle  connection  be- 
tween the  two  ? 

Now,  with  this  thought  in  mind,  turning  again  to  the 
other  arts,  notice  that  an  increase  in  the  imitation  of 


400  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE , 


natural  appearances  in  the  details  has  a tendency  to  in- 
crease the  same  in  the  treatment  determining  the  gen- 
eral outlines  also.  As  a rule  the  general  plot,  i.  e., 


FIQ.  232.— TEMPLE  AT  BUDDHA  GAYA  INDIA. 

See  pages  380,  399. 


the  general  outline,  of  a ballad  has  to  do  mainly  with 
mere  events ; the  plot  of  an  epic,  which  comes  later. 


FIG.  233.— TEMPLE  AT  MUKTESWARA,  INDIA. 
See  pages  380,  399. 

401 


26 


II 1 


402  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

with  details  concerning  the  persons  engaged  in  these 
events ; the  plot  of  a drama,  which  comes  still  later, 
with  additional  details  representing  the  characters  of  these 
persons;  and  the  plot  of  a descriptive — as  distinguished 
from  a narrative — poem,  which  comes  yet  more  late, 
with  added  details  representing  their  natural  surround- 
ings. So  in  music.  Only  in  later  compositions,  as  in  the 
oratorios  of  Haydn,  or  the  operas  of  Wagner,  is  the  plot 
unfolded  by  so  analogous  or  imitative  a use  of  harmony 
that  the  melody  is  reduced  to  recitative.  So  too  in  paint- 
ing and  sculpture.  A reproduction  of  the  general  outlines 
of  form,  as  by  the  painters  of  the  middle  ages,  was  once 
considered  all  that  was  necessary.  Now  there  are  schools 
of  criticism  whose  sole  applied  test  of  excellence  seems  to 
be  accuracy  in  the  delineation  of  the  minutiae  of  appear- 
ance. 

Taken  together,  the  facts  indicated  in  the  last  few  pages 
cannot  fail  to  suggest  to  a logical  mind  the  question 
whether,  as  in  the  cases  of  the  other  arts,  there  may  not 
be  developed  in  architecture,  too,  a style  in  which  this 
representation,  as  applied  not  only  to  details  but  to  gen- 
eral effects  shall  be  more  imitative  than  at  present.  This 
question  was  asked  in  “ Art  in  Theory  ” ; and,  as  it  seemed 
to  present  a new  idea  to  certain  critics,  it  was  only  what 
was  to  be  expected  from  human  nature,  perhaps,  for  them 
to  display  a certain  lack  of  integrity,  intelligence,  and  in- 
sight in  the  way  in  which  they  greeted  it.  The  lack  of 
integrity  was  shown  in  the  question’s  being  quoted  out  of 
its  connection,  in  such  a way  as  to  be  made  to  appear  an 
expression  of  strong  affirmation  and  advocacy,  whereas  it 
was  merely,  as  it  is  here,  an  inquiry  suggested  by  way  of 
logical  inference.  The  lack  of  intelligence  was  shown  in 
the  ignorance  displayed  of  the  way  in  which  all  architec- 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  403 


ture  starts,  as  indicated  on  page  316,  as  well  as  the  way  in 
which  it  develops,  as  indicated  on  page  39 7 ; and  the  lack 
of  insight  was  shown  in  the  failure  to  recall  the  beauty 
imparted  to  almost  any  natural  appearance  whatever, 
when  reproduced  in  material  like  marble  or  bronze,  which 
is  more  costly  and  difficult  to  work.  If  a man,  for  in- 
stance, who  has  seen  the  exquisite  effects  produced  by 
marble  carvings  of  bark  and  leaves,  will  look  at  Fig.  44, 
page  85,  which  is  a reproduction  of  a scene  not  prepared 
for  this  volume,  he  will  recognize  that  it  is  by  no  means 
an  idle  question  to  inquire  whether  some  future  architect 
may  not  conceive  that  columns  and  ceilings  imitating  these 
tree-trunks  and  leaves  may  be  made  more  artistically  beau- 
tiful than  any  possible  modification  of  our  present  Gothic 
columns  or  such  conventional  groinings  of  the  ceiling  as 
may  be  noticed,  for  instance,  in  Fig.  234,  page  404.  Or 
look  again  at  Fig.  175,  page  325.  What  would  a man  be 
doing  who  should  reproduce  effects  like  this  on  the  ex- 
terior of  a stone  building,  but  carrying  out  the  first 
principles  of  architecture  as  manifested  in  the  reproduc- 
tion of  the  framework  in  front  of  the  cave  represented  in 
Fig.  171,  page  315  ? 

Another  consideration,  too,  is  important  here.  Our  age 
is  characterized  by  a far  wider  use  than  ever  before  of 
metals.  What  can  we  find  to  do  with  our  iron,  copper, 
aluminium,  and  especially  silver,  is  becoming  a very  prac- 
tical question.  Now,  if  bronze  be  appropriate  for  the 
representations  of  sculpture,  why  should  not  metal  of 
some  similar  character  be  appropriate  for  the  uses  of 
architecture — not  only  as  suggested  on  page  330,  but  still 
more  extensively  ? Other  things  considered,  who  would 
not  prefer  to  sit  in  a theatre  the  galleries  and  pillars  of 
which  in  no  possible  circumstances  could  be  burned  ? 


404  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


And  who  that  is  acquainted  with  the  possibilities  for  ar- 
tistic representation  in  metal  of  this  character  can  deny 
the  opportunities  afforded  by  it? 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  indeed,  that,  even  supposing 
such  attempts  in  stone  or  metal  could  be  successful,  it 
does  not  follow  that  architecture  would  necessarily  be  im- 


FIQ.  234.— AISLE  OF  HENRY  VII. ’S  CHAPEL,  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY,  ENGLAND. 
See  pages  380,  403,  405. 

proved  by  them.  In  the  estimation  of  the  majority  of 
critics,  the  ornamental  Greek  architecture  of  the  Corin- 
thian or  composite  styles  does  not  rank  as  high  as  the 
plainer  and  earlier  Doric  ; nor  the  decorated  or  the  florid 
Gothic  as  high  as  the  plainer  and  earlier  pointed  style. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  405 


Compare  the  latter  as  in  Figs.  41,  page  81,  and  43,  page 
84,  with  the  former  as  in  Figs.  144,  page  205  ; 220,  page 
392  ; and  234,  page  404.  It  must  be  acknowledged,  too, 
that  massiveness  of  effect,  which  is  the  chief  characteris- 
tic imparting  impressiveness  and  dignity  to  very  large 
buildings,  necessitates  a predominating  use  of  simple 
forms  and  straight  lines,  with  which  the  kind  of  imitative 
representation  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  might 
seriously  interfere.  See  pages  66,  76,  and  87.  But  to 
acknowledge  these  facts  is  not  to  prove  inconceivable  a 
method  of  development  which  the  analogy  of  the  other 
arts  shows  to  be  among  the  logical  possibilities  of  archi- 
tecture ; nor  even  to  prove  that  all  attempts  to  carry  out 
these  possibilities  would  be  unsuccessful.  As  applied  to 
smaller  buildings,  no  more  minute  attention  to  the  details 
of  carving  would  be  needed  in  order  to  manifest  imitative 
representation,  than  can  now  be  seen  in  the  famous  Ros- 
lyn  Chapel  of  Scotland  ; and,  whether  really  constructed 
of  metal  or  not,  the  galleries  of  the  Grand  Opera  House 
of  Paris  are  certainly  made  to  look  as  if  they  were. 

Of  course,  it  is  to  be  understood  that,  especially  at  the 
beginning  of  attempts  of  the  kind  indicated,  it  would  re- 
quire superlative  ability,  probably  genius  of  the  highest 
order,  to  produce  anything  that  would  not  appear  con- 
fused and,  in  the  worst  sense  of  the  term,  inartistic.  But 
is  a genius  of  the  highest  order  impossible  in  our  day  ? If 
not,  why  might  he  not  make  as  great  advances  in  archi- 
tecture as  Wagner  has  made  in  music,  and  that,  too,  in 
exactly  the  same  direction  ? Throughout  these  essays  it 
has  been  maintained  that,  under  all  the  arts,  are  certain 
principles  that  successful  products  need  to  exemplify.  As 
applied  to  building,  for  instance,  it  is  not  because  the 
Gothic  artist  did  not  mix  horizontal  with  arched  coverings 


40 6 PAINTING , SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

for  windows  that  it  should  not  be  done  to-day.  Our  artists 
should  be  actuated  by  a higher  motive  than  imitation. 
What  they  should  avoid  is  a violation  of  the  principle 
exemplified  by  the  Gothic  builders,  which  principle  is  to 
put,  wherever  it  is  possible,  like  with  like.  It  was  pointed 
out  in  Chapter  XVII.  of  “The  Genesis  of  Art-Form  ” that 
in  strict  accordance  with  this  principle,  as  it  is  applied  in 
all  the  other  arts,  there  might  be  a legitimate  style  in  which, 
from  the  lower  story  up,  the  acuteness  of  the  arches  in 
each  story  would  be  gradually  increased  ; also,  that  in 
these  days  of  easy  and  extensive  methods  of  transporta- 
tion, there  might  be  a legitimate  style,  in  which,  through 
the  use  of  stones  or  of  other  materials  of  different  hues,  the 
effects  of  harmonious  coloring  could  be  produced,  even  on 
exteriors  ; and  here  again  other  ways  are  pointed  out 
through  which,  as  by  a further  use  of  metal  and  of  imita- 
tive representation,  other  legitimate  styles  might  be  ren- 
dered possible. 

It  is  acknowledged  that  these  and  other  suggestions 
like  them  tend  to  encourage  architectural  methods  that 
are  not  conventional,  traditional,  nor  even  conservative. 
But  merely  because  this  is  the  case,  the  author  does  not 
propose  to  apologize  for  them.  All  the  suggestions  have 
been  in  line  with  the  development  of  this  art  in  accordance 
with  its  own  germinal  nature.  That  it  might  require 
genius  to  originate  a successful  practical  expression  of 
them,  is  no  argument  against  them.  The  only  valid 
arguments  that  can  be  urged  against  any  form  of  criticism 
must  be  connected  in  some  way  with  a proof  that  it  is 
destructive  and  not  constructive  ; or  that,  if  it  be  the 
latter,  it  becomes  so  by  pointing  to  imitation  and  not  to 
invention ; or,  if  to  invention,  only  to  methods  of  it  which 
necessitate  a departure  from  the  first  principles  of  the 
art  rather  than  a development  of  them. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  MATERIAL  SURROUNDINGS.  407 


Before  leaving  this  subject  of  imitative  representation 
in  architecture,  it  is  well  to  notice  one  or  two  other  facts. 
By  recurring  again  to  the  method  of  construction  in  Figs. 
171.  Pa§e  3:5  i 1 72>  Page  3 17  ; and  209,  page  375,  it  will 
be  recognized  that  the  artistic  interest  in  them  is  owing 
to  the  fact  that  a material  less  difficult  to  work  is  repre- 
sented in  a material  more  difficult  to  work ; in  other 
words,  that  a wooden  original  is  imitated  in  stone.  It  is 
largely  because  of  the  skill  needed  in  order  to  produce 
the  imitation  in  this  latter  material,  that  it  fulfils  both  of 
the  requirements  of  art,  in  that  it  represents  equally  the 
artist  himself  and  the  external  appearance  which  he  re- 
calls. For  this  reason,  this  fact  of  representing  a material 
less  difficult  to  work  in  material  which  is  more  difficult,  is 
usually  considered  essential  to  the  highest  artistic  success. 
While  it  is  deemed  appropriate,  for  instance,  to  make  a 
stone  building  represent,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Greek  tem- 
ple, noticed  on  page  376,  a wooden  building,  it  is  not 
deemed  so  to  make  a wooden  building  represent  a stone 
one,  or  to  make  a wooden  balustrade  look  like  a brass 
one,  or  stamped  paper  look  like  bronze.  This  conception 
is  the  one  that  has  led  to  the  use  of  the  term  sincerity. 
The  term  indicates  one’s  conception  that  the  artist  has 
employed  material  which  really  is  what  it  seems  to  be, — 
wood,  if  it  seem  wood  ; stone,  if  it  seem  stone  ; iron,  if 
it  seem  iron.  Sincerity  even  discards,  at  times,  the  use 
of  paint,  on  the  ground  that  it  conceals  the  genuine  sub- 
stance. So,  too,  owing  in  part  also  to  the  intrinsic  beauty 
of  the  graining  of  almost  any  kind  of  wood,  the  same  prin- 
ciple has  led  to  a method  of  finishing  this  so  as  to  reveal 
its  natural  character.  It  is  useless  to  do  more  than  point 
out  that,  as  illustrated  in  all  these  cases,  sincerity  is  merely 
one  way  of  applying  the  broader  general  principle  that 
architecture  should  represent  nature. 


408  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 

Another  application  of  the  same  principle  is  found  in 
the  way  in  which,  not  without  reason,  certain  critics  insist 
that  in  choosing  the  material  for  the  construction  of  a 
building,  preference  should  be  given  to  that  which  is 
natural  to  the  district  in  which  the  building  is  to  stand. 
They  say,  for  instance,  that  in  red  sandstone  districts  it 
should  be  built  of  red  sandstone;  in  a gray  granite  dis- 
trict, of  gray  granite;  or  in  forests  intended  to  be  left  in 
a rustic  state,  of  logs  left  in  a rustic  state,  somewhat  as  in 
Fig-  l7 5>  Page  325-  The  idea  is  that  a building  thus  con- 
structed will  appear  to  be  a part  of  the  surrounding  land- 
scape, harmonizing  with  it  in  color,  and,  upon  a nearer 
inspection,  in  material  also.  There  is  undoubtedly  much 
in  this,  as  applied  to  country  residences.  But,  evidently, 
all  the  truth  that  is  in  it,  is  there  because  it  involves  one 
more  way  of  making  architecture  represent  nature. 

The  purpose  of  this  essay  is  now  fulfilled.  There  are 
innumerable  other  ways,  of  course,  which  cannot  be  men- 
tioned here,  in  which  the  principle  of  representation  can 
be  applied  not  only  in  architecture,  but  in  painting  and 
sculpture.  All  these  ways,  however,  must,  in  some  re- 
gards, conform  to  the  methods  here  indicated.  The 
important  matter  is  to  have  the  general  truth  with  refer- 
ence to  the  subject  understood  and  accepted.  In  practical 
life  there  is  little  trouble  about  conduct,  in  case  a man 
starts  with  correct  moral  principles.  In  art-work  there  is 
an  almost  equal  diminution  of  trouble,  in  case  he  starts 
with  correct  aesthetic  principles. 


INDEX. 


In  a few  cases,  the  subjects  below  are  treated  on  the  pages  indicated  merely  through  a 
reference  by  number  to  the  figure  illustrating  them. 


Abdomen,  as  representative,  no, 
116,  123,  142,  162  ; Discomfort 
in,  142,  162. 

Abnormal.  See  Normal. 

Abruptness,  55.  See  Gradation. 

Academic  Line  versus  naturalistic, 
294-296. 

Academy  of  Music,  Philadelphia, 
204. 

Accent  of  voice  and  line,  16,  17,  18, 
39,  41,  57,  59.  See  Light  and 
Shade. 

Acceptance  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 186. 

Acropolis,  Athens,  375,  376,  380, 
386,  387,  397,  407. 

Acroterium  and  Gutter,  /Egina, 
389,  393,  398. 

Activity,  represented  by  length,  108  ; 
Lines  illustrating,  62,  64,  72,  145. 
See  Motive  Temperament. 

Adding  Insult  to  Injury,  picture, 
151,  152,  156,  263. 

Adoration  of  the  Magi,  picture,  72, 
73,  174,  248,  263,  276. 

zEgina,  Temple  of,  380,  387,  389, 
393,  396,  398- 

Aerial  perspective,  206,  307-309. 

^Esthetic,  2 ; effects  in  buildings, 
86,  341,  363,  364,  366. 

zEsthetically,  323. 

Affectation,  Anglo-Saxon,  234. 

Africa,  Hottentot  Krall  in,  80,  377, 
379,  384  ; Kaffir  Station  in,  377, 
378,  381,  384  ; Negro  Huts  in, 
80,  378,  383,  384. 

Age  of  Reformation,  248, 


Aggressive  movements,  16S,  169,  171. 

Aggrieved  look  in  countenance,  177. 

Agrigentum,  Giants  of  Temple  of, 
.395,  396,  398. 

Aim,  Elevation  of,  as  represented  in 
outline,  68  ; determining  rank  of 
art-work,  259,  260. 

Alexander,  108. 

Allegorical,  painting,  248,  272,  274  ; 
sculpture,  286. 

Amazement  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 184. 

Ambition  expressed  in  countenance, 
173,  174,  1S6. 

American,  accent,  ix.,  x.  ; church, 
327,  32S,  330,  355  ; painters,  292  ; 
streets,  334,  360,  361,  364-367  ; 
type  of  face,  toi. 

Amiable  suspicion  expressed  in 
countenance,  171,  186. 

Antefix  of  Marble,  rEgina,  389,  398 

Ananias,  Death  of,  picture,  61,  62 
77,  79,  136,  137,  HO,  145,  147, 
156,  158,  161,  167,  170,  177,  178, 
226,  287. 

Ancient  Mariner,  The,  244. 

Angelo,  M.,  47,  50,  75,  298,  301, 
302. 

Angles,  17  ; representation  by,  21, 
86-87,  8g,  go. 

Angular,  Representation  by,  argu- 
mentative movements,  62,  134, 
135- 

Angularity  of  shape  as  representa- 
tive, 55-87,  89. 

Animal  painting  and  significance, 
262,  263. 


409 


410  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Apollo  Belvedere,  62,  138,  147,  149, 
151,  224,  281  ; Sauroctonos,  48, 
49,  61,  76,  136,  223,  2S1  ; Stro- 
ganoff,  224. 

Appearances,  Natural,  in  Architec- 
ture, 2,  32,  78-87,  312-321,  372- 
408  ; in  art,  2,  4,  6 ; in  metaphor 
and  simile,  243,  244  ; in  painting, 
63-78,  226-236,  291-310  ; in 

building  material  for  a locality, 
408  ; in  colors  and  dyes,  198  ; 
how  representing  thought,  3, 
63-78. 

Apprehension  represented  in  color, 
207,  208. 

Apprehensive,  The,  expressed  in 
countenance,  with  astonishment, 
179,  185-190  ; with  attention, 

173,  1 75  J with  grief,  173,  183, 
184,  187. 

Arch,  Arches,  8,  327  ; representative 
of  nature,  32,  82,  84,  85,  379-384, 
398,  399,  403  ; round  and  pointed, 
378  ; causing  styles,  78,  380-385. 

Architectural  features,  Development 
of,  52,  318,  319,  323,  333,  344, 
360-408. 

Architecture  and  Painting,  Lectures 
on,  86. 

Architecture,  appealing  to  emotions, 
78,  86,  87  ; as  memorial  and  monu- 
mental, 356,  357  ; as  representative 
of  dignity,  332,  356,  366,  405  ; of 
man  and  nature,  316,  317,  320,  321, 
373)  374  J °f  material  or  natural 
surroundings,  2,  32,  78-87,  312- 
321,  372-408  ; of  mind,  28-38, 
322-371  ; of  mind  and  nature, 
28-38,  41  ; of  strength  or  weak- 
ness, 25,  26,  42,  52,  54,  355,  405  I 
of  thoughts  and  emotions,  321  ; 
begins  earlier  and  develops  later 
than  painting  and  sculpture,  313  ; 
cheap  ornamentation  in,  355, 
357,  371  J color  in,  203-207,  210, 
406  ; compared  with  music,  28-32, 
311-314,  373  ; contrasted  with 
poetry,  painting,  and  sculpture, 
28-33,  311-314,  373  I conven- 

tional, 388,  406  ; developed  from 
cave  decoration,  315-317  ; from 
hut-  and  tent-building,  373-378  ; 


from  imitating  wood  in  stone, 
3I5-3I7,  375,  376,  378,  407,  408  ; 
from  picturesque  and  statuesque 
conception,  314,  316  ; from  re- 
quirements of  construction,  378 — 
3S4  ; fundamental  principle  in, 
406;  handling  in,  51-54;  imita- 
tion in,  312-318,  372-378  ; lines 
in,  78-87  ; originality  in,  406  ; 
rank  of  styles  in,  404,  405  ; regu- 
larity in,  95  ; representation  in, 
311-321  ; representation  of  lines 
in,  78-87  ; shadows  in,  52,  54  ; 
sky-line  in,  362-371  ; street,  362- 
371  ; styles,  78,  367,  379-384  ; uni- 
formity in  color,  363  ; variety 
of  color,  406.  See  Corinthian, 
Davidian,  Doric,  Egyptian, 
Gothic,  Greco-Roman,  Greek, 
Ionic,  Romanesque. 

Arms,  as  bent  in  gestures,  138,  140; 
as  expressive,  123,  148-164. 

Arrangement,  76. 

Arrogance  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 100. 

Art,  and  Nature,  different,  257  ; and 
writing,  separated  in  Egypt,  221, 
in  Greece,  222. 

Art  for  Art’s  Sake,  the  book,  292  ; 
the  principle,  291. 

Art-Idea,  book,  282. 

Art  in  Theory,  book,  iii.,  v.,  viii. , 
1,  3,  10,  ir,  13,  23,  26,  30,  101, 
215,  216,  217,  228,  237,  240,  245, 
288,  291,  314,  317,  354,  356,  372, 
402, 

Artist  as  represented,  in  animal 
painting,  262,  263  ; in  architec- 
ture, 316,  317,  320;  in  fruit  paint- 
ing, 257  ; in  landscapes,  259-262  ; 
in  portraits,  264—269;  in  sculpture, 
266,  267  ; in  symbolic  painting, 
272. 

Artist’s  point  of  view  should  be 
understood,  292. 

Art,  its  Laws  and  Reasons  for  them, 
book,  76,  266. 

Arts,  as  derived  from  human  forms 
of  expression,  23. 

Aspiration  as  represented  by  upward 
lines  and  length  of  body,  68,  73, 
74,  84,  108. 


INDEX. 


411 


Association,  representation  by,  4— 
13,  18,  27,  28,  32,  37,  51,  214, 
385,  386,  38S,  398,  399  ; as  an 
element  of  beauty,  26  : as  con- 
trasted with  comparison  in  repre- 
sentation, 4-9,  385-402  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 385,  386,  388,  398,  399. 

Assumption,  The,  46. 

Assyrian  architecture,  386,  396. 

Astonished  horror  as  expressed  in 
countenance,  175,  187,  188. 

Astonishment,  179,  185,  igo ; and 
attention,  187,  188. 

Athena  of  the  Capitol,  76,  224,  281. 

Attack,  An,  expressed  in  pose,  62, 
65,  145,  167,  171. 

Attention,  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, with  astonishment,  186, 
187  ; apprehensive,  173,  175  ; 

thoughtful,  172,  187,  190  ; uncon- 
fiding, 167,  169,  175,  176,  178, 
185  ; unconvinced,  167,  169,  175, 
176,  178,  185,  186,  187. 

Audible  representation,  3,  14-23. 

Audience  Hall,  336. 

Aurora,  picture,  61,  71,  72,  136, 
265,  272. 

Australian,  chiefs’  houses,  80,  374- 
376,  386,  397;  University  at  Sid- 
ney, 84,  324,  349,  351,  352,  355, 
359.  36o.  362,  369,  380. 

Author  and  Critics,  picture,  62,  63, 
151,  152,  156,  172,  173.  177- 

Avenue  of  Palms  at  Rio,  32,  73,  84, 
85.  399.  403. 

Awe,  as  represented  in  color,  208, 
209. 

Awkward  pose,  61,  133. 

Bacchus,  early  dignity  of,  225. 

Background,  28,  38. 

Backward  Movement,  129,  148-164, 
167,  175-180. 

Balance,  the  art  method,  93,  95,  170; 
in  face,  99. 

Balustrade,  as  representative  of  a 
flat  roof,  360,  362. 

Baptistry  of  Florence,  Relief  on, 
247,  248,  286,  302. 

Barnes,  A.,  115,  117,  118,  124,  182. 

Barry,  50,  77. 

Barton,  B.,  57- 


Barye,  302. 

Battle,  colors  in,  200,  210. 

Baudelaire,  vii. 

Bay  window,  327. 

Beardsley,  A.,  236. 

Beauty,  association  an  element  of, 
26  ; definition  of,  26  ; in  human 
shape,  26  ; in  countenance,  97, 
103  ; its  connection  with  regu- 
larity, 97-103. 

Bedford  Building,  Boston,  323,  370, 
371,  380. 

Bedouin,  x. 

Beggar  Boys,  picture,  202. 

Belfry  as  representative,  357. 

Bellini,  46. 

Benediction,  as  representative,  161. 

Berlin,  Schiller  Platz,  354,  357,  380  ; 
Unter  den  Linden,  344,  360,  364. 

Beverley  Minster,  32,  82,  84,  380, 
388,  399,  405. 

Black,  207-210  ; marble,  203. 

Blake,  301. 

Blanc,  C.,  46,  73,  74,  292. 

Blue,  195,  197,  198,  200,  209,  210, 
220. 

Blue  Boy,  The,  264. 

Blue  veins,  202. 

Body,  Human,  as  representing  emo- 
tion and  thought,  60-62,  106-192  , 
excitability,  108,  m ; discomfort; 
142,  162;  gracefulness,  61,  133  ; 
matter  under  control  of  mind,  104, 
105  ; mind  under  constraint,  61, 
133 ; persistence,  114,  118,  122; 
persuasion,  62  ; reflection,  126— 
137,  142-149,  156,  162,  167,  190; 
rejection,  158;  repose,  69,  70; 
self-consciousness,  61  ; surprise, 
130,  163,  171  ; threatening,  62, 
65,  145,  167,  171,  172,  183  ; un- 
consciousness, 61,  133  ; uncon- 

strained, the,  61,  129,  133  ; by 
length,  61,  108,  log,  113,  137,  145, 
152  ; by  movement,  aggressive, 
backward,  awkward,  graceful, 
etc.,  61,  62,  108,  132-189;  by 
shape,  106-124  1 by  size,  168  ; 
representative  effects  of  parts  of 
the  body,  123,  124,  142  ; i.  e.,  ab- 
domen, no,  116,  123,  142,  162  ; 
breast,  127,  128, 142,  148  ; elbows, 


412  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , 4vV/>  ARCHITECTURE. 


123;  extremities,  m-113,  123; 
eyebrows,  98,  100,  112,  119,  172, 
181,  184,  185,  187,  188;  eyes, 

115,  121,  124,  166,  168,  170-190; 

feet,  112,  123,  124,  134,  145,  146, 
166,  188;  fingers,  151,  155— 

163;  forehead,  98,  99,  102,  119, 
120,  124,  129,  156,  168,  169, 
171,  182,  184,  188  ; hand,  x,  xi, 
112,  155-161;  head,  147-166; 

hips,  123,  138,  142,  144,  147  ; jaw, 

116,  124,  167;  knee,  145,  146; 
legs,  123,  145,  146  ; limbs,  21,  24, 
25  ; mouth,  112,  1 1 5-118, 181-185, 
189  ; nose  and  nostrils,  98-102, 
112,  120,  121,  124,  129,  181,  1 S3— 
185,  188,  189  ; palm,  123,  124, 
156,  161,  181  ; shoulders,  123, 
148;  torso,  no,  123,  126,  142, 
144,  145,  147  ; temperaments  and 
shapes  of,  108-114.  See  Counte- 
nance. 

Bol,  272. 

Bonaparte,  115-120,  124,  169,  177, 
179- 

Book  of  the  Dead,  222. 

Borderland,  237. 

Boulevard  St.  Michael,  84,  344,  345, 
363,  364- 

Boy  Surprised,  130,  163,  171. 

Breadth,  representative  of  vitality  in 
the  hand,  120-122  ; face,  115,  116; 
form,  108-114;  movement,  T51  ; 
as  in  facial  expression,  181  ; in 
the  fist,  155. 

Breast,  as  expressive,  127,  128,  142, 
148. 

Breton,  J.,  202,  307. 

Bright  colors,  22,  195-212  ; light, 
199,  202. 

Bronze,  203,  403. 

Brow,  as  expressive,  eye-,  171,  173, 
174,  177,  179;  forehead,  156. 

Brown,  M.  T.,  107. 

Browning,  58. 

Buddha  Gaya  Temple,  380,  399,  400. 

Building,  as  expressive  of  thought, 
337.  See  Architecture. 

Buoyant,  The,  as  represented  by 
curves,  65,  73. 

Buttresses,  323,  342,  349. 

Byron,  284. 


Byzantine,  36,  78. 

Cabanel,  295. 

Cain,  statue,  156-15S,  174,  281. 

Callimachus,  387. 

Calmness,  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 189. 

Canova,  50,  286. 

Cantilever  Bridge,  as  representative 
of  reflection,  20. 

Capital,  of  column,  386,  387  ; at 
Denderah,  395,  396,  398  ; com- 
posite, 380  ; Corinthian,  32,  34, 
380,  387,  390,  394,  396  ; Doric, 
380,  387-389  ; Egyptian,  32,  34, 
395,  398  ; Ionic,  380,  388,  389  ; 
from  Cathedral  at  Rheims,  390, 
395.  396,  398  ; from  Persepolis, 
Persia,  394,  398  ; Gothic,  390  ; 
Romanesque,  390. 

Caractacus,  57. 

Caravaggio,  169,  271. 

Card  Players,  picture,  169,  172,  270, 
271. 

Carving,  earliest,  215,  216. 

Castellated,  360,  361. 

Castle,  Mediaeval,  360. 

Cathedral,  Cologne,  35,  52,  78,  81, 
82,  84,  86,  323,  380,  405  ; color 
in  a,  203,  204  ; Ely,  78,  380,  390, 
392,  405  ; Gothic,  382  ; New  York, 
204  ; Proposed,  334,  335,  378,  380; 
San  Vitale,  380,  390,  39c  ; St. 
Isaac’s,  34-36,  38,  42,  52,  78,  82, 
352,  353,  356,  380;  St.  Mark’s, 
36-38,  42,  52,  78,  82,  86,  380  ; St. 
Sophia,  78,  80,  82,  86,  380  ; Wells, 
203,  205,  380,  405. 

Cave,  Primitive  architectural  decora- 
tion of,  315-317,  374-376,  387. 
388  ; of  Elephanta,  315,  316,  375, 
376,  389- 

Ceiling,  207,  327-331. 

Central- Point,  90. 

Century  Company,  236. 

Cerebro-spinal  nerves,  114,  127. 

Chancel,  336. 

Chapel,  Henry  VII.,  380,  403-405. 

Chase,  308. 

Cheap,  architectural  ornamentation, 
355-357,  371,  407;  in  spires  or 
pinnacles,  355-357,  37 1- 


INDEX. 


413 


Cheeks,  as  expressive,  191. 

Chenonceau  Chateau,  346-348,  352, 
378. 

Chest,  as  expressive,  114.  See 
Breast. 

Chiaroscuro,  17.  See  Light  and 
Shade. 

Chicago,  Columbian  Exhibition,  84, 
270  ; Court  of  Honor,  etc.,  363- 
365,  380  ; Douglas  Park  Univer- 
sity. 337  ; University  of,  369,380. 

Chierici,  G.,  152. 

Childe  Harold,  2S4. 

Chin,  as  expressive,  98,  102,  112, 
118,  129,  156,  168,  171-176,  179. 

China,  Art  of,  232,  236. 

Chinese,  218  ; palace  at  Pekin,  376, 
377- 

Chodowieck,  D.,  61. 

Christianity,  Early,  and  Art,  226. 

Church,  336,  357  ; American,  327, 
328,  330,  355  ; color  in,  203,  204; 
support  and  decoration  of  roof  and 
ceiling,  329,  330,  332,  334. 

Circle,  as  representative,  89,  go,  97. 

Circular,  92.  See  Curves. 

Classic  Line,  294-296. 

Claude,  260,  261. 

Climax,  Rhetorical,  55. 

Clock  tower,  as  representative,  357. 

Closing  Gesture,  correlated  as  made 
with  hands  to  facial  expression, 
182,  183,  185  ; downward,  134, 
136,  156,  158-160  ; finger,  134, 
136,  156,  158-161  ; form  of,  140; 
sideward,  130,  132,  140,  156-158; 
upward,  130,  132,  145,  152,  1 56— 
161. 

Cold  colors  as  representative,  195- 

212. 

Coleridge,  244. 

Colleges,  Architecture  in,  367—369. 

Collier,  218. 

Cologne  Cathedral,  35,  52,  78,  81, 
82,  84,  86,  233,  3S0,  405  ; gargoyle 
on,  393,  394,  398. 

Color,  18,  ig,  22,  95  ; as  representa- 
tive of  mental  conceptions,  192- 
212  ; of  material  surroundings, 
300-310  ; of  various  definite  ideas, 
like  apprehension,  207,  20S  ; awe, 
208,  209  ; cosiness,  207  ; delicacy, 


203  ; depression,  194  ; dignity,  199, 
202,  203  ; distance  and  nearnesss, 
206,  207,  294,  295,  307-309  ; ex- 
hilaration, 210  ; gayety,  199,  204  ; 
ghastliness,  209,  211  ; grandeur, 
202,  207  ; grossness,  202  ; horror, 
208,  209  ; hostility.  208  ; jovous- 
ness,  204 ; largeness,  207  ; life, 
198,  309  ; massiveness,  206  ; move- 
ment, 309  ; nature,  197,  198  ; per- 
plexity, 194,  208  ; refinement,  203  ; 
seriousness,  iqg,  202,  203  ; tex- 
ture, 306,  307  ; correlated  to 

sound,  T95-198,  201  ; effects  of,  in 
countenance,  202,  211  ; in  aerial 
perspective,  206,  307,  308  ; in 
architecture,  203-207,  363,  406  ; 
in  early  painting,  302,  303  ; in 
nature,  291-310  ; in  sculpture,  203, 
280  ; natural  and  man-made,  198  ; 
related  to  light  and  shade,  iS, 
193-195  ; representative  effects  of 
black,  207-210;  bright,  22,  195- 
212  ; bright  and  warm,  195,  196  : 
cold,  195-212  ; contrast  of,  199, 
204,  207-209,  294,  296,  298,  304, 
306,  308  ; dark,  22,  195-212  ; dark 
and  cold,  195,  196  ; gray,  200,  203, 
207;  green,  195-198,  209,  210; 
mixed,  207-21 1 ; orange,  195,  197, 
198,  209,  210  ; red,  195,  197,  198, 
200,  20 1,  209,  210;  white,  203, 
204,  207,  210,  211  ; yellow,  195, 
197,  198,  200,  210,  220. 

Color  Exhibition,  Cover  of  Water, 
232,  233. 

Columbia  College,  367. 

Columbian  Exhibition.  See  Chicago. 

Columns,  8,  9,  26,  32,  86,  403.  See 
Pillars. 

Comic  facial  effects,  igo,  191. 

Cornin’  thro’  the  Rye,  ix. 

Communication,  186  ; not  the  end  of 
art,  216-221. 

Comparison,  representation  by,  4, 
6-13,  28,  32,  37,  214,  385,  386, 
398  ; contrasted  with  association 
in  representation,  4-9,  385-402  ; 
in  architecture,  385,  3S6,  398  ; re- 
lation to  imitation,  6,  8,  9,  13. 

Complex,  68,  82. 

Complicated,  68. 


414  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Composite  capital,  380  ; style,  rank 
of,  404. 

Compound  stress,  in  elocution,  16. 

Concentration  of  thought  as  ex- 
pressed in  the  countenance,  188. 

Conceptions,  Mental,  as  represented 
in  art,  226  ; in  architecture,  28-38, 
41,  322-371  ; in  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, 226,  239-279,  286-290.  See 
Mental,  Mentality,  Mind. 

Confidence,  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 172,  173  ; satisfied,  177. 

Constrained,  61,  133. 

Constructive  idea,  as  representative, 
322,  323,  326,  327,  336  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 322-334. 

Contempt  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 100,  177. 

Contempt  and  Discontent  as  ex- 
pressed in  countenance,  181,  183, 
185,  188,  190. 

Contemptuous  Rage  as  expressed  in 
countenance,  175,  176,  178,  1 8 1 , 
182,  183,  186,  189. 

Contour,  98. 

Contrast,  Effect  of  distance  on,  91, 
206,  294,  296-298,  304,  306,  308  ; 
of  color,  199,  202,  207-209,  294, 
296,  298,  304,  306,  308. 

Contrition  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 186. 

Conventional,  architecture,  406  ; as 
significant,  212  ; shapes,  226,  388, 
390- 

Conventionalism,  222,  225. 

Convex,  77. 

Corbel  from  Cathedral  of  Rheims, 

38,  390,  396,  398. 

Corinthian,  Capital,  32,  34,  380,  387, 
394,  396,  398  ; style,  rank  of, 

404- 

Cornice,  349,  360. 

Corot,  259,  295,  296,  301. 

Correspondence,  Principle  of,  4,  99, 

US- 

Costly  material  in  architecture  should 
represent  less  costly,  375 — 377,  407. 

Cottage  and  Domestic  Architecture, 
Old,  book,  337. 

Cottages  as  representative,  54,  337— 

^ 342,  358,  359- 

Countenance,  beauty  of,  97-103  ; 


color  effects  in,  202,  2>i  ; indi- 
viduality necessary  in,  103  ; regu- 
larity of,  101-104  ; representation 
in,  of  acceptance,  186  ; amaze- 
ment, 184;  ambition,  173,  174, 
186;  amiable  suspicion,  171,  177; 
apprehensive  astonishment,  179, 
185-190;  apprehensive  attention, 

173,  175  ; apprehensive  grief,  173, 
177.  183,  1S4,  190;  arrogance, 
100  ; astonished  horror,  185,  186, 

188  ; astonishment,  179,  187,  190  ; 

attention  with  astonishment,  186, 
187  ; with  apprehension,  173,  174; 
thoughtful,  172,  186,  190;  uncon- 
fiding, 167,  169,  175,  176,  178, 

185  ; unconvinced,  167,  169,  175, 
176,  178,  185-187  ; of  being 

aggrieved,  177;  calmness,  189; 

concentration  of  thought,  188  ; 
confidence,  172,  173,  177  ; con- 
tempt, 100,  177  ; with  discontent, 
181,  183,  185,  188,  190;  con- 
temptuous rage,  175,  176,  178, 

181,  182,  183,  186,  189  ; credulity, 
167,  168,  171,  174;  crying,  184; 
curiosity,  183,  184,  187  ; disap- 
pointed desire,  174,  175,  184,  185, 
186;  despair,  175,  176,  185;  dis- 
content, 121,  183,  185,  188  ; dis- 
dain, 189  ; displeasure,  183  ; doubt, 
172  ; eagerness,  169  ; egotism,  177  ; 
expectancy,  187  ; faith,  178,  179  ; 
faith,  hope,  and  love,  147-149, 
151,  162,  169  ; fear,  175,  185,  186, 

188,  190  ; fear  and  rage,  175,  181, 
184,  186,  189  ; force,  171  ; fright, 
175,  176,  189  ; gravity,  183  ; ha- 
tred, xoo  ; hopelessness,  173,  174, 
186;  horror,  175,  185,  186,  188  ; 
impudence,  167,  177,  178  ; inter- 
rogation, 171,  172  ; laughter  and 
gayety,  100,  183,  184,  185,  187, 

189,  191  ; malice,  100,  177,  185  ; 
perplexity,  172,  173;  pride,  100; 
(unconfiding),  167,  176,  177  ; ques- 
tioning, 171,  172  ; rage  and  fear, 

174,  J75.  181  ; religious  rapture, 
174,  175,  179  ; reflection,  182,  184- 
186,  188  ; rejection,  183,  189  ; 
rapture,  174,  175,  179  ; sadness, 

189  ; scheming,  1 71  ; scolding,  100  ; 


INDEX. 


415 


seriousness,  1S6,  202,  203  ; smil- 
ing, 100,  183,  1S4  ; sneer,  100; 
solicitude,  186  ; sorrow,  173  ; stub- 
bornness, 176  ; submission,  174  ; 
superiority,  178  ; surprise,  171, 
175,  186,  187  ; suspicion,  amiable, 
171,  186;  terror,  173,  183-186, 
188  ; threatening,  166,  167,  169, 
171,  173,  183  ; triumph,  179  ; un- 
amiable  suspicion,  171,  177  ; un- 
confiding  pride,  167,  176,  177. 

Court  of  Honor.  See  Chicago. 

Crane,  W.,  41,  43,  45,  64,  69,  293. 

Credulity  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 167,  168,  171,  174. 

Criticism,  constructive  and  destruc- 
tive, 406  ; valid  arguments  against 
a system  of,  406. 

Crucifixion,  The,  202. 

Crying  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
1S4. 

Cupola,  331,  332,  355,  357. 

Curiosity  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 183,  184,  187. 

Curvature  of  contour,  93. 

Curves,  compound,  in  pose  and  ges- 
ture, 138,  140  ; representative,  17, 
21.  5 5—87,  90,  1 10  ; of  buoyancy, 
65,  74;  freedom,  61,  65;  133; 
grace,  61,  133  ; growth,  82,  87  ; 
nature,  80,  82. 

Dancing  Movements,  130,  135,  136, 
142. 

Dante,  vi,  209. 

Dark  colors,  22,  195-212  ; and  cold, 
195,  196. 

Darwin,  107. 

Daubigny,  301,  308. 

Davidian  Architecture,  380. 

Da  Vinci,  46. 

Decamps,  308. 

Decorated  Gothic,  380,  390  ; rank 
of,  404. 

Decorative  Art,  211. 

Degeneration,  vi. 

Delicacy,  representation  of,  44. 

Delivery  of  Keys  to  St.  Peter,  77. 

Delphi,  224. 

Delsarte,  128,  130,  132,  133,  142. 

De’  Medici,  Giuliano,  Tomb  of,  50, 
301,  302. 


De  Mortillet,  A.  and  G.,  215. 

Denderah,  Capital  at,  395,  396,  398. 

Denner,  B.,  226,  307. 

Depression  as  represented  in  color, 

194- 

Descent  from  the  Cross,  The,  202, 
276,  277,  287. 

Descriptive  gesture,  closing,  1 56- 
162  ; opening,  138,  151,  159,  160; 
poetry,  246. 

Desire,  disappointed,  as  expressed 
in  countenance,  174,  175,  184-186. 

Despair  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
175,  176,  185. 

Destruction  of  Jerusalem,  248,  250, 
265,  272. 

De  Superville’s  Diagrams,  189. 

Detaille,  272,  275. 

Details,  effects  of  distance  on,  91, 
206,  294,  296,  298,  304,  307,  308; 
growth  of  imitation  of,  385-402  ; 
in  all  the  arts,  385,  386,  399-401  ; 
in  architecture,  385-402  ; shape 
of  hand  indicating  attention  to, 
122. 

Diagrams  of  Duval,  189  ; of  De 
Superville,  189. 

Diana  a la  Biche,  224. 

Dias,  301. 

Dignified  as  expressed  in  outline, 

37,  73.  112,  114. 

Dignity,  37,  66,  84,  149  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 332,  356,  366  ; in  color, 
199,  202,  203. 

Dignity  and  Impudence,  262,  263. 

Direction  of  Lines,  56,  74.  See 
Angles,  Curves,  Lines. 

Discontent  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 121,  183,  188. 

Disdain  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
189. 

Displeasure,  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 183. 

Distance,  28,  34,  37,  91  ; effects 
on  magnitude,  light,  contrast,  and 
detail,  illustrated,  gi,  206,  294, 
296-298,  304,  307,  308  ; on  per- 
spective in  color,  206,  207,  294, 
295.  307-309  ! in  drawing,  293, 
294,  298  ; in  sculpture,  302. 

Distinctness  of  line  and  outline,  295 
-298. 


416  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Doggett,  46,  73. 

Dome,  as  representative,  38,  352- 

354,  356,  357,  373  ; false,  354, 

355. 

Domestic  architecture  aud  cold 
colors,  203-205. 

Doors,  342,  349. 

Doorway,  20. 

Dore,  G.,  209. 

Doric  Greek  style,  380,  387-389,  404. 
Dou,  307. 

Doubt  as  expressed  in  countenance, 

172. 

Douglas  Park  University,  Chicago, 
337- 

Downward,  gesture,  152-163;  glance 
of  eye,  171,  172,  178. 

Drapery,  303,  306. 

Drawing  as  representing  mental 
states,  58-60. 

Dream,  Detaille’s,  272,  275  ; of 

Jacob,  272. 

Dresden  Gallery,  260. 

Drowning  Man,  128,  129. 

Dupre,  G.,  157. 

Duration,  15,  iS,  37,  39. 

Duval's  Diagrams  of  Facial  Expres- 
sion, iSg. 

Dying  Gladiator,  Gaul,  or  Galatian, 
282,  283. 

Eagerness  as  expressed  in  pose  and 
countenance,  169, 

Ear,  proportionately  divided,  90,  97, 
98,  124  ; parallel  to  nose,  98. 
Easter  Advertisement,  Gorham  Com- 
pany, 235,  236. 

Egotistic  as  expressed  in  pose  and 
countenance,  177. 

Egypt,  218,  389. 

Egyptian,  ancient  face,  203,  221, 
222;  art,  220-222;  buildings,  386; 
capital,  32, _ 34,  386,  394,  398  ; 
hieraco  sphinx,  393,  398  ; paint- 
ings, 304  ; picture  from  “ Book  of 
the  Dead,”  219,  22r,  222;  temple, 
394,  396,  398  ; writing  219,  221. 
Ejaculations  as  leading  to  language, 
4-6. 

Elbows,  as  expressive,  148  ; as  bent 
in  questions,  138,  140. 

Elements  of  Art  Criticism,  386. 


Elephanta,  Cave  at,  315-317,  375, 
376,  389.  397.  403,  407- 

Elevation  of  Soul  as  represented  by 
upward  lines,  68,  84. 

Elizabethan  Gothic,  380. 

Ely  Cathedral,  Choir  of,  78,  380, 
390,  392,  405. 

Emotional,  121. 

Emotions,  as  represented  in  archi- 
tecture, 78,  82,  86;  in  art,  1,  2,  12, 
13,  23,  214,  215,  240  ; by  lines, 
59-61,  66,  68,  73,  78,  82,  86;  in 
painting  of  animals,  262,  263  ; of 
landscapes,  259-262  ; of  portraits, 
268,  269;  through  variety  of  color, 
194,  195,  200,  208,  209. 

Emotive,  effect  of  regularity,  96  ; 
excitation  expressed  in  color,  194, 
200,  208,  209  ; expression  in  ges- 
ture and  face,  129,  130,  136-138  ; 
140,  142,  145,  169,  170,  180-182, 
191  ; tendency  in  art,  n-13,  19- 
22,  59-61,  66,  82,  94  ; in  bodily 
expression,  113,  114,  118,  123  ; 
why  connected  with  moral  ex- 
pression, 113,  1 14  ; why  its  seat 
in  arms,  136  ; in  breast,  r27,  128. 

Emphasis,  as  imparted  by  shading, 
17- 

Encyclopaedia  of  Architecture,  384. 

Energy,  mental  and  material,  as 
represented  in  arts  of  sight,  ig, 
42,  44,  46-56,  59.  See  Strength. 

England,  Art  in,  243. 

English  Literature,  History  of,  218. 

Englishman's  intonations,  ix. 

Entablature,  Architecture  of,  78,  84, 
86,  378-382. 

Excitability,  how  represented  in 
body,  108,  in. 

Excitation  by  color,  194,  200,  208, 
209. 

Exeter  Hall,  326,  327,  330,  336. 

Exhibition.  See  Chicago. 

Expectancy  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 187. 

Explanations,  function  of,  in  paint- 
ings and  statues,  251,  254,  286- 
290. 

Expression,  differing  in  each  art,  30, 
311-314  ; emotive,  11-13,  19-22, 
59,  60,  61,  66,  82,  94,  127-130, 


INDEX. 


417 


136-138,  140,  142,  145,  14S  ; 

facial,  determined  by  contrast, 
168  ; in  gesture  by  one’s  concep- 
tions, 154,  168  ; in  men  and  ani- 
mals, 107 ; instinctive,  4,  6-13, 
19-21,  58,  59,  60,  62,  63,  72,  94, 
126-137,  142-149,  166,  214  ; hu- 
man, as  developed  in  art,  23  ; 
reflective,  6-13,  19-21,  59,61,  62, 
65.  66,  73,  82,  94,  95,  133,  134, 
137,  142,  175,  198  ; responsive, 
30,  311-314;  subjective,  30,  311- 
314  ; sustained  and  unsustained, 
30,  311-314.  See  Architecture, 
Body,  Color,  Countenance,  Lines, 
Painting,  and  Sculpture. 
Extension,  14,  15. 

Extraneous  force  represented  by 
outlines,  66,  72. 

Extremities  of  body  as  representa- 
tive, m-113,  123. 

Eye,  divided  proportionately,  90, 
97,  98. 

Eyebrows,  98,  100,  112,  119,  172, 
181,  184,  1S5,  187,  188. 

Eyes,  115-121,  124,  166,  168.  170— 
igo  ; closed  or  open,  1S6— 1S8. 

Face,  human,  American  type  of, 
101  ; divided  proportionately,  90, 
96-98  ; front,  go,  97,  98,  101-103  ; 
Greek  type  of,  100,  10 1 ; regular- 
ity of,  89,  98-103;  side,  90,  97, 
98  ; significance  of  movements  of, 
165-171  ; of  different  parts  of, 
1 15-121. 

Facial  Expression,  165-191.  See 
Countenance. 

Fairies’  Song,  57. 

Faith  as  expressed  in  countenance, 

178,  179. 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  as  expressed 
in  countenance,  147-149,  151, 

162,  169. 

Farnese  Hercules,  20,  21,  24,  26, 

281. 

Farragut,  266. 

Farrar,  5. 

Fawn  of  Praxiteles,  61,  144,  147, 

282. 

Fear  as  expressed  in  countenance, 

179,  185,  186,  188,  190. 


Fear  and  Rage  as  expressed  in  coun- 
tenance, 175,  181,  184,  186,  189. 

Feeling,  mental,  as  represented  in 
art,  19,  46-48  ; in  architecture, 
317,  321.  See  Emotions  and 
Emotive. 

Feet,  expression,  by  112,  123,  134, 
145,  146. 

Figure,  human,  divided  proportion- 
ately, go,  96-98  ; painting,  263- 
278  ; significance  of  different  parts 
of  body,  115-130. 

Figures  carved  in  stone  age,  215, 
216. 

Fine  Art,  225,  315  ; Pictures,  93. 

Fingers,  correspondence  between 
their  gestures  and  those  of  face, 

166,  1S1,  182,  1S5,  188  ; gestures 
with,  151,  155-163  ; shape  of, 
121,  122,  124. 

First  Communion,  The,  202  ; Prin- 
ciples, 127. 

Fist  gestures,  134,  155,  15b;  corre- 
spondence of,  to  face  gestures, 
181,  183,  1S5. 

Fiaubert,  G.,  vii. 

Flaxman,  280. 

Florence,  Relief  from  Baptistry  of, 
247,  24S,  286,  302  ; Strozzi  Palace 
at,  346,  347,  359,  360. 

Flower-painting,  255-258. 

Flowers  for  the  Hospital,  picture, 
268. 

Flying  Mercury,  21,  25,  26,  62,  73, 

_ 135,  152. 

Force,  as  represented  in  lines,  15, 
18,  39,  42  ; in  the  countenance, 

171 . 

Foreground,  28,  37. 

Forehead,  98,  99,  102,  119,  120, 
124,  129,  156,  168,  169,  171,  182, 
184,  188. 

Foreshortening,  298. 

Form  versus  Significance,  vi,  vii, 
221-290. 

Fortuny,  304,  307. 

Forward  movements  of  body  as 
representative,  129,  148-164,  166, 

167,  169,  174. 

Foundations,  38,  322,  323,  342. 

Fowler,  O.  S.,  108,  109,  ill,  112, 
1 14. 


4lS  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Framework  of  lines,  for  pictures, 
73,  89,  90,  95-103  ; representing 
both  natural  and  mental  require- 
ments, 94. 

France,  Art  in,  vi,  243. 

Freedom,  61,  65,  133. 

Frieze  of  Parthenon,  223,  225,  281, 
282. 

Frightful  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 173,  177. 

Fromentin,  300,  308. 

Fruit-painting,  256—258. 

Fussy,  The,  356. 


Gable,  334,  362,  363. 

Gainsborough,  264. 

Galatian  Dying,  282,  283. 

Galileo,  Face  of,  173,  174. 

Galway,  Queen’s  College,  84,  349, 
350,  355-  359,  360,  380. 

Gargoyle,  393,  394,  398. 

Gaul  Dying,  282,  283. 

Gautier,  T.,  vi. 

Gayety,  as  represented  in  counte- 
nance, 183,  184,  187,  189,  191  ; in 
color,  199,  204. 

General  Elliot,  Portrait  of,  266. 

Genesis  of  Art-Form,  The,  56,  go, 
92,  93,  224,  306,  327,  406. 

Genre  painting,  270-272. 

Germany,  Art  in,  243  ; law  regulat- 
ing height  of  buildings,  366. 

Gerome,  31,  274,  287,  295.  See 
Pollice  Verso. 

Gestures,  2,  107  ; away  from  body 
and  toward  it,  162-164  ; closing, 
130,  132,  134,  136,  152,  156-161; 
compound  curve  in,  138-140  ; cor- 
respondence between  hand  and 
face,  166,  181,  182,  185-188  ; 

meaning  of,  x,  xi,  125-189  ; 
fingers,  151,  156-163,  166  ; 

fist,  134,  155,  156  ; opening, 

138,  1 5 1 , 159,  160,  161,  182, 
185-188  ; place  where  struck 
sideward,  upward,  or  downward, 
150-154  ; shape  of  hand  in,  1 5 5— 
161 . 

Ghent,  Street  in,  344,  346,  362, 
380. 

Ghiberti,  I,.,  248. 


Giants  from  Temple  of  Agrigentum, 
395,  396,  398. 

Giovanni  da  Bologna,  21. 

Girlhood  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  229, 
230,  252,  295. 

Giuliano  de’  Medici,  Tomb  of,  50, 
301,  302. 

Gladiator  Dying,  282,  283. 

Goldsmith,  Face  of,  109,  113,  115, 
117,  119,  124,  187. 

Gorham  Manufacturing  Co.,  235, 
236. 

Gossip,  304. 

Gothic  Architecture,  8,  9,  34,  35,  52, 
68,  78,  86,  349,  369,  378-384 ; 
capitals,  390,  395,  396  ; cathedrals, 
226,  382,  398,  399  (see  Cathe- 
drals) ; decorated,  380,  390,  404, 
405  ; Elizabethan,  380  ; ^motive 
effects  of,  86,  87  ; fitted  for  groups 
of  buildings,  367,  369 ; florid, 

380,  404,  405  ; nave  and  trees, 
398,  399  ; perpendicular,  380  ; 

pillars,  388  ; pointed,  380-384, 
404,  405  ; styles  of,  380-384 ; 
rank  of  styles,  404,  405  ; Tudor, 
380. 

Graceful,  as  expressed  by  surfaces, 
49  ; by  curves,  61,  133. 

Gradation,  in  line,  15-18,  22,  39, 
42  ; in  color,  306  ; in  outlines, 
55-87. 

Grammar  of  Painting  and  Engrav- 
ing, 46,  73,  292. 

Grand  style  in  Greek  sculpture,  281. 

Granet,  F.  M.,  304. 

Granite,  203. 

Grave,  as  expressed  in  line,  74  ; in 
the  countenance,  183. 

Gray  color  as  representative,  200, 
203,  207. 

Greco-Roman  Architecture,  34,  36. 

Greek,  architecture,  8,  9,  34-36,  78, 
86,  378-384.  395-398,, 404,  405; 
art  separate  from  writing,  222, 
223  ; composite  capitals  and  style, 
380,  404  ; conventional  forms  in, 
394  ; Corinthian  capitals  and  style, 
52,  34,  380,  387,  394,  398,  404; 
Doric  capitals  and  style,  380,  387, 
389,  393,404;  groups  of  buildings, 
367,  369  ; groups  of  statues,  223, 


INDEX. 


419 


224  ; Ionic  capitals  and  style,  380, 
388,  389  ; rank  of  architectural 
styles,  404;  sculpture,  76,  224,  225, 
281-284  i temples,  52  ; type  of 
face,  100,  101 

Greeks,  57. 

Green  color  as  representative,  195, 
197,  198,  209,  210. 

Greuze,  47. 

Grief,  apprehensive,  as  expressed  in 
countenance,  173,  183,  184,  189, 
190. 

Groups,  in  buildings,  367,  369  ; in 
statues,  223,  224. 

Growth,  appearance  and  effects  of, 
65,  82. 

Guido,  71,  265,  272. 

Gutters,  359,  360. 

Guttural,  elocutionary  tone,  197, 
208,  209. 

Gwilt,  384. 


Hals,  307. 

Hall  of  Mechanical  Arts,  Columbian 
Exhibition,  363. 

Hand,  as  bent  in  gesture,  138-140  ; 
as  used  in  gesture,  149-164  ; cor- 
respondence between  its  gestures 
and  facial  expression,  166,  181, 
182,  185-188  ; representation  by 
natural  shape,  121-124  ; assumed 
shape,  112,  155-161.  See  Fingers, 
Fist,  and  Gestures. 

Handbook,  of  Drawing,  97  ; to  the 
Egyptian  Court,  220. 

Handling  or  touch,  15,  16,  19,  21, 
42-54  ; in  architecture,  51-54  ; in 
painting,  42-48  ; in  sculpture,  48- 
5i- 

Harper  Brothers,  236. 

Hatred  as  expressed  in  countenance, 

too. 

Haydn,  402. 

Head,  meaning  of  movements  of, 
147,  148,  166-189  ; in  connection 
with  facial  expression,  166-178  ; 
phrenologically  divided,  115-121, 
124,  167  ; significance  of  different 
parts  of,  115-121. 

Heaviness,  Representation  of,  25, 

26,  37- 


Height,  Effect  of,  lessened  by  large- 
ness of  environment,  32;  by  width, 
34,  35  ; representing  high  rooms 
and  air  for  crowds,  38. 

Heine,  272. 

Helmholtz,  378,  385,  398. 

Henry,  II.  Receiving  Grown,  27,  29  ; 
VI.,  244  ; VII.  s chapel,  380,  403- 
405. 

Heracles,  Triton  and  Nereids,  27, 
222. 

Herculaneum,  320. 

Hercules,  Farnese,  20,  21,  24,  26, 
281. 

Herder,  5,  117. 

Heroic  Sculpture,  Greek,  281. 

Hieraco  Sphinx,  393,  398. 

Hieroglyphics,  218-221. 

High,  buildings,  364-367  ; school 
tower,  327,  330. 

Hips,  expression  by,  123,  138,  142, 
143,. 147- 

Historical  paintings,  274,  275  ; sculp- 
ture, 286. 

Holyrood  ornamental  arcade,  226, 
227. 

Hopelessness,  Expression  of,  in  coun- 
tenance, 173,  174,  186. 

Horizontality,  65,  66,  72-74,  78,  82, 
84,  90,  97,  166,  378  ; in  gestures, 
150,  151. 

Horror,  in  color,  208,  209  ; in  coun- 
tenance, 175,  185,  186,  188. 

Hostility  in  color,  208. 

Hottentot  Krall,  80,  377,  379,  384. 

Hours  with  Art  and  Artists,  292. 

Houses,  at  Morlaix,  323,  324  ; rep- 
resentatively constructed,  52,  318, 
319.  323.  324>  343,  344,  360,  380. 
See  Huts. 

Houses  of  Parliament,  34,  36,  38. 

How,  they  Brought  the  Good  News, 
58  ; to  judge  a picture,  292, 
300. 

Human  element  in  landscape,  259. 
See  Art,  Artist,  Body,  Face,  Fig- 
ure, Hands,  Head,  etc. 

Humanities,  The,  2,  242. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  57. 

Huts,  originals,  from  which  houses 
are  developed,  80,  374-379,  383, 
334,  397- 


420  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Iambic  Measure,  57. 

Idea,  Constructive,  as  represented 
in  architecture,  322-334. 

Ideographic  writing,  217. 

Illustrated  magazines,  236. 

Imagination,  appeal  of  mixed  forms 
to,  68;  play  of,  viii,  318,  3ig,  354. 

Imitated,  developed  in  architecture 
later  than  conventional  forms, 
387- 

Imitation,  3,  4,  6-13,  30,  59,  70, 
214-217,  226,  237,  385,  386,  388, 

398,  399  ; advances  in  all  art  from 
generic  to  specific,  385,  386,  398, 

399,  402  ; in  architecture,  28-32, 
312-314,  374-385;  in  metaphors 
and  similes,  243,  244  ; in  music, 
28-32,  312-314  ; in  painting,  226- 
229  ; versus  invention  in  architec- 
ture, 406.  See  Representation, 
associated  or  suggestive,  and  com- 
parative or  imitative. 

Imitative,  2 ; as  contrasted  with  sug- 
gestive in  all  the  arts,  385-402  ; in 
painting,  changes  made  in,  95  ; 
representation  in  the  arts,  27,  28, 
214-217. 

Immobility,  as  represented  in  paint- 
ing and  architecture,  25. 

Importance  as  represented  in  paint- 
ing and  architecture,  27,  37. 

Impressionists,  296. 

Impudence  as  represented  in  coun- 
tenance, 167,  177,  178. 

Incongruity,  191. 

India,  Temples  of,  380,  399,  400, 
401. 

Individuality  necessary  in  counte- 
nance, 103. 

Inferno,  The,  209. 

Influential,  The,  as  represented  in 
painting  and  architecture,  27. 

Initial  elocutionary  stress,  16. 

Inness,  G.,  259,  308. 

Instinctive  tendency  in  expression, 
4,  6-13,  19-21,  58-60,  62,  63,  72, 
94  ; in  color,  193,  194,  198  ; in 
drawing,  58-60  ; in  the  human 
form,  126-137,  142-149,  166,  214. 

Intensity  as  represented,  39. 

Interest  in  a building,  323,  338 — 
342. 


Interior  of  a building  as  determining 
exterior  appearance,  337-352. 

Interjections  or  ejaculations  in  for- 
mation of  language,  4-6. 

Interpretive  or  mental  temperament, 
HT-113,  122,  124,  126;  facial 

movements,  166;  inward  and  out- 
ward movements,  129,  130,  162- 
164. 

Interrogation  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 171,  172. 

Intonations,  Meaning  of,  ix,  x. 

Ipsambool,  Egyptian  Temple  at, 
394,  396,  398. 

Iron,  as  used  in  building,  326-331, 
358,  403  ; concealed,  329,  330. 

Irregularity,  15-18,  22,  88-103. 

Israels,  308. 

Italian,  Early,  paintings,  304. 

Japan,  Art  of,  232,  236. 

Japanese  compositions,  90,  93. 

Jarvis,  282. 

Jaw,  expressive  of,  116,  124,  167. 

Jewish  Cemetery,  The,  260,  261. 

Jones,  Owen,  220. 

Joshua,  Life  of,  picture,  248. 

Joyous  Conception,  as  represented  by 
color,  204  ; by  lines,  65,  74. 

Judas,  Peter,  and  John,  picture, 
147,  148,  150,  158,  167,  169,  287. 

Kaffir  Station,  picture  of,  377,  378, 
381,  384. 

Kaulbach,  248,  250,  265,  272. 

Ivermesse,  47. 

Knee,  Expression  with,  145,  146. 

Kostroma,  Church  near,  25,  26,  32, 
34- 

Lamps,  Seven  of  Architecture,  Rus- 
kin,  54. 

Landscape,  gardening,  95  ; as  repre- 
senting man  and  nature,  70  ; 
painting,  95  ; as  representing  artist 
and  significance,  258-262. 

Landscape  with  Waterfall,  picture, 
260. 

Landseer,  262,  263. 

Language  and  Languages,  5 ; and 
the  Science  of,  7 ; origin  of,  4-7. 

Laocoon,  Criticism  of,  245-253,  284- 


INDEX. 


421 


286;  group  of,  49,  77,  174,  223, 
281,  284,  285. 

Large  size,  as  representative,  8,  9, 
24,  25,  28,  38. 

Last  Judgment,  picture,  47. 

Laughter,  and  gayety,  as  expressed 
in  countenance,  100,  183-185,  187, 
189,  191  ; and  smiling,  100,  183, 
184. 

Lavater,  117-119. 

Leaning  of  head,  forward,  168-175  ; 
sideward,  173-180. 

Leaving  for  Work,  picture,  295,  299, 
300. 

Lectures,  on  Design,  252,  276  ; on 
Sculpture,  280. 

Leg,  Expression  with  the,  123,  145, 
146. 

Length  as  representative,  in  body, 
61,  108,  109,  113  135,  I45>  152; 
in  hand,  121-123  ; in  head,  115  ; 
in  gesture,  135  ; in  lines  of  archi- 
tecture, 84  ; of  painting,  73,  74  ; 
of  nature,  66-70  ; moral  effect  of, 
60,  108-114. 

Leonardo,  305. 

Lerolle,  308. 

Lessing’s  Theory,  245-253,  270-272, 
284. 

Lesueur,  74. 

Life  and  Movement,  as  expressed  in 
color,  309  ; in  drawing,  293,  298— 
302. 

Life  Drama,  poem,  244. 

Light  and  Shade,  17,  18,  41,  42,  50, 
51,  55.  293,  294  ; in  color,  304- 
306,  309  ; in  drawing,  293,  294  ; 
in  sculpture,  41,  302  ; in  architec- 
ture, 52,  54  ; lines  expressive  of. 
18,  41,  44,  46,  294,  307. 

Light,  as  related  to  Color,  193,  194, 
195  ; effects  of  distance  on,  91, 
206,  294,  296,  297,  304,  306,  308. 

Lightness  as  represented,  25,  26. 

Limbs,  human,  Size  of,  as  represent- 
ative, 21,  24,  25. 

Lines,  as  expressive  of  aspiration, 
68,  73,  74,  84,  108  ; buoyancy,  65, 
74;  character,  73-87;  in  architec- 
ture, 78-87  ; in  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, 44-50,  70-77,  269  ; of  dig- 
nity, 37,  66,  73,  84,  112,  114,  149, 


332,  356  ; elevation  of  aim,  68, 
84  ; energy,  mental  and  material, 
19,  42,  44,  46-56,  57,  59  ; extra- 
neous force,  66,  72,  87  ; freedom, 
61,  65,  133  ; force,  15,  18,  39,  42  ; 
gracefulness,  133;  gravity,  183, 
immobility,  25,  37;  importance,  27, 
37  ; influence,  27,  37  ; joyousness, 
65,  74  ; life  and  movement,  293, 
298—302  ; light  and  shade,  17,  41, 
42,  44,  46,  49,  51,  54,  294  ; per- 
sistence, 66,  68  ; massiveness,  32, 
37,  38  ; repose,  44,  45,  66,  72, 
84,  326,  356  ; seriousness,  66,  73, 
74,  82,  84,  85  ; storm,  43,  44,  65, 
66  ; strength  or  weakness,  15, 
16,  18,  21,  24,  25,  32,  39,  42, 
44.  52,  54,  355.  4°5  J substantial- 
ity. 25,  332  ; unconsciousness,  61, 
126;  unsubstantiality,  26;  weak- 
ness, 16,  25,  49,  50  ; yielding,  49  ; 
dividing  the  face  and  figure  pro- 
portionately, 88-103.  See  Angular, 
Curved,  Horizontal,  Mixed,  Per- 
pendicular, Straight,  Vertical. 

Lion  Hunt,  picture,  202. 

Lips,  Expression  by,  115-118. 

Literary  painting,  228-230,  245- 

253,  270-272  ; use  of  term,  251. 

Long,  76,  266. 

Longfellow,  his  face,  109,  113,  115, 
117,  119,  124. 

Luini,  B.,  248,  250,  251. 

Lungs  as  expressive  of  motive  tem- 
perament, 1 14. 

MacLean,  T.  N.,  143. 

Macmonnies,  266,  267,  281. 

Madonnas,  Raphael’s,  265. 

Magi,  Adoration  of  the,  picture,  72, 
73,  174,  263,  276. 

Magnitude.  Effect  of  distance  on,  91, 
206,  294,  296-298,  304,  306,  308. 

Malice  expressed  in  countenance, 
100,  177,  185. 

Mantegazza,  116,  118,  120. 

Marble,  in  architecture,  403  ; in 
statues,  203. 

Maria,  Christina,  Tomb  of,  50,  73, 
263,  286,  ; Stern’s,  129,  131,  142, 
156,  168. 

Marjorie,  Little,  Sargent,  264. 


422  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Marks,  H.  S.,  63,  270;  St.  Venice, 

36,  37- 

Marr,  C.,  304. 

Marriage,  Proposition  of,  picture, 
61,  138,  147,  160,  161,  169,  175. 

Massive  Outlines  as  representative, 
32. 

Material  Surroundings,  as  represented 
in  art,  4,  42,  44,  46-51,  59,  63- 
78  ; in  architecture,  372-408  ; in 
painting  and  sculpture,  291-310  ; 
as  representing  mental  conditions, 
2,  42,  46-51,  59.  63-78. 

Mausoleum.  See  Tomb. 

Measures,  poetic,  16,  17,  57,  88  ; 
corresponding  to  measurements  in 
space,  57. 

Measurements,  17,  32,  57,  58,  88  ; 
for  regularity  correspond  either  in 
space  or  shape,  89,  97. 

Median  elocutionary  stress,  16. 

Meissonier,  307. 

Melody,  18. 

Melrose  Abbey,  24-26,  32,  34,  203, 
322,  380,  390. 

Memorial  Architecture,  356,  357. 

Mental,  as  represented  in  the 
arts  of  sight,  conceptions,  1,  2, 
23,  214,  215,  226,  241  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 311-371  ; in  painting  and 
sculpture,  239-253  ; control,  115, 
120-124,  126  ; energy,  19,  42,  44, 
46-50,  59  ; expression  by  inward 
and  backward  movements,  129  ; 
influence,  19-22,  121,  142,  152, 
167-178,  180,  1 8 1 , 191,  198  ; pur- 
pose in  buildings,  334-352  ; tem- 
perament, 108-114. 

Mentality,  ill,  115,  121,  134.  See 
Mental. 

Mercury,  Flying,  21,  25,  26,  62,  73, 

135,  152. 

Mermaid,  The,  poem,  40. 

Merry  Miller  Song,  viii. 

Metaphor,  Accuracy  of  imitation  in, 
243,  244. 

Metropolitan  Museum,  New  York, 
304,  309. 

Mexico,  Early  writing  in,  218. 

Millet,  J.  T.,  299,  230-232,  253, 
260,  295,  301,  308. 

Milton,  vi. 


Mind,  as  represented  in  art,  19,  217. 
See  Mental. 

Minerva,  76,  77. 

Mixed  colors,  as  representative,  207 - 
21 1 ; lines,  59,  75,  77,  87. 

Mobility  as  represented  in  outline, 
25.  26,  37. 

Monks  in  the  Oratory,  picture,  304. 

Monastery,  Troitzka,  Door  of,  380, 
388,  390. 

Moral,  as  represented,  in  bodily 
shape  and  movement,  by  reach, 
and  length,  62,  108-1  r4  ; by 

rigidity,  137,  138  ; by  upright  posi- 
tion, 178,  180;  involving  control, 
115,  123,  124  ; connected  with 
emotive  expression,  113,114,  135; 
influence,  62  ; its  seat  in  arms 
and  breast,  127,  129,  142  ; tem- 
perament, 108-114,  128. 

Moral  Thoughts,  Tomassee’s,  118. 

Motive,  19  ; expression  as  com- 
bining mental  and  instinctive, 
127,  129,  136,  1S7  ; or  active 

temperament,  108-114,  128  ; con- 
nection with  emotive  or  moral 
expression,  113,  114,  135  ; indi- 
cated by  length,  60,  108-114  ; in- 
volving control,  115,  118,  122- 
124  ; its  seat  in  limbs  and  breast, 
127,  128,  129,  142,  148. 

Mouth,  expression  through,  112, 
115-118,181-185,  189;  regularity 
of,  98,  99. 

Movability,  as  represented  in  arts  of 
sight,  25. 

Movement,  as  represented  in  color, 
309  ; in  drawing,  293,  298  ; in 
sculpture,  302. 

Movements,  bodily,  as  representing 
thought  and  emotion,  132,  134- 
189  ; when  aggressive,  168,  169, 
171  ; backward  and  forward,  129, 
148-164,  166-180  ; inward  and 
outward,  128-130,  162-164,  t66- 
180  ; oblique,  62,  130,  132,  137, 
144,  145,  147,  148,  158,  167,  172, 
175;  sideward,  T30,  148-154,  166, 
167,  170-175  ; upward  and  down- 
ward, 129,  134-137, 148-154, 162- 
164,  166-180  ; form  of,  138-140; 
of  head,  166-191  ; of  arms  and 


INDEX. 


423 


hands,  149-164  ; of  the  torso  and 
lower  limbs,  129-149  ; rotary,  of 
head,  166,  180. 

Mukteswara,  Temple  of,  380,  399, 
401. 

Munich,  Marien  Flatz,  54,  343,  344, 
360,  380. 

Mural.  See  Walls. 

Murillo,  202. 

Muscles,  1 14  ; of  face,  compared 
with  hand  gestures,  181. 

Musee,  Prehistorique,  216. 

Music  as  a Representative  Art,  iii, 
v,  7,  196,  214,  287,  313,  373. 

Music,  88,  214,  3S5  ; begins  earlier 
and  develops  later  than  poetry, 
313  ; developed  from  intonations, 
iv,  v,  viii-x,  7,  313,  372,  373  ; 
expression  in,  iv,  v,  viii-x,  30, 
32. 

Musical,  57,  214. 

Myra,  Rock  tomb  at  31s,  316,  37s, 
376,  387.  397,  403.  4°7- 

Mythologic  painting,  272;  sculpture, 
286. 

Napoleon,  his  face,  115-117,  118, 
119,  120,  124,  169,  177,  179. 

Nathan  Hale,  statue,  267,  281. 

National  Gallery,  London,  260. 

Natural,  Appearances,  as  represented 
in  architecture,  26,  32,  78—87,  312— 
321,  372-408  ; in  art,  2,  4,  6 ; in 
metaphor  and  simile,  243,  244  ; 
in  painting,  63-78,  226-236,  291- 
310 ; in  building  material  for  a 
locality,  408 ; colors  and  dyes, 
198 ; how  representing  thought, 
3,  63-78. 

Naturalistic  Line  in  drawing,  294- 
296. 

Nature,  as  represented  in  architec- 
ture, 374,  375  ; different  from  art, 
257,  258.  _ 

Nausica,  Figure  from,  60,  61,  72, 
129,  130,  133. 

Nave  of  a cathedral  resembling 
trees,  84,  398,  399,  403. 

Nearness,  as  represented  by  color, 
206,  207,  294,  295,  307,  308  ; by 
shape  and  line,  28,  32,  91,  294, 
295.  See  Distance. 


Negro  Huts,  80,  378,  383,  384. 

Nerves,  nervous,  nerve-force,  in, 
113,  114,  119,  121,  126;  sympa- 
thetic, 126  ; cerebro-spinal,  114, 
127. 

Nevill,  R.,  337. 

New  Guinea  Chief,  A,  136-138. 

Nightingale,  Florence,  268. 

Normal,  action  in  nature  ; how  rep- 
resented, 65,  72  ; tone  in  elocu- 
tion, 197,  207  ; school  building, 
New  Zealand,  331-333.  355.  358, 
359- 

Nose,  Expression  by,  98,  99,  100, 
112,  120,  121,  124,  129,  188,  189. 

Nostrils,  Expression  by,  102,  120, 

181,  182,  185,  188,  189,  191. 

Notes  as  used  in  measures,  57. 

Oblique  movements,  130,  144  ; 

backward  62  130,  132,  145,  147, 
148,  158,  167  ; forward,  130,  132, 
137,  145,  148,  167,  172,  175. 

Observatory,  357. 

Octagon,  56. 

Old  South  Church,  Boston,  35,  52, 
54,  84,  331,  380. 

Opening  Gesture,  Curves  in  the  138- 
140  ; downward,  138,  151,  159, 
160  ; likened  to  facial  expression, 

182,  183,  186  ; sideward,  138, 

151,  159,  160;  upward,  1 5 1 , 160, 
161. 

Opera  House,  Metropolitan,  New 
York,  204. 

Opie,  J. , 252,  276. 

Orange  color  as  representative,  195, 
197,  198,  209,  210. 

Orator’s  Manual,  133,  163,  164,  197. 

Organ  Recital,  picture,  309. 

Oriental  temples  and  palaces  like 
tents,  376. 

Originality  in  architecture,  406,  407. 

Originating  in  art,  405,  406. 

Ornamental  arcade  from  Holyrood, 
226,  227. 

Ornamental,  developed  from  useful 
features,  318  ; in  architecture, 
374,  375,  386-397- 

Orotund  tone  in  elocution,  197,  207, 
208. 

Othello,  244. 


4-4  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ARCHITECTURE. 


Outlines,  15,  17,  ig,  20,  22,  32,  40,  I 

41,  42;  angular,  55-87,  no; 
curved,  55-87,  go,  no  ; regularity 
of,  88-105  ; straight,  55-87,  no. 
See  Lines. 

Outward  Movements,  128-130,  162- 
164,  166-180. 

Ovals,  g7,  g8. 

Overbeck,  228. 

Oxford  public  schools,  360,  36g,  380. 

Paint,  Excessive,  appearance  of,  in  a 
painting,  306,  3og. 

Painting,  allegorical,  248,  272,  274  ; 
as  representing  mental  concep- 
tions, 23g-27g,  286-2go  ; natural 
appearances,  291-310  ; time,  245- 
253  ; as  interpreting  itself,  254- 
27g,  286-290  ; as  literary,  228- 
230,  245-253,  270-272  ; of  details 
developing  late,  385  ; lines  in, 
41-48,  70-77  ; its  mode  of  expres- 
sion, 30,  32,  70-78,  213-238  ; 
distinguished  from  that  of  archi- 
tecture, 30,  32,  311-314  ; from 
poetry,  245,  246  ; from  music,  30, 
32,  311-314  ; from  sculpture,  280, 
281  ; historical,  274-278  ; mytho- 
logical, 272,  273  ; portrait,  263- 
269  ; significance  versus  form  in, 
vi— viii,  239—279  ; symbolical,  272, 
274  ; touch  in,  42-48.  See  Color, 
Line,  Outlines,  Shape. 

Palaces,  Oriental,  376,  377. 

Pallas  of  Villetri,  47,  49,  76,  281. 

Palm,  123,  124  ; gestures  with,  156- 
161,  181. 

Palmistry,  iii,  107  ; shape  of  hand, 
121-124. 

Palms,  Avenue  of,  Rio,  32,  73,  84, 
85.  399- 

Pantomime,  iii,  107.  See  Gestures 
and  Facial  Expression. 

Paris,  Grand  Opera  House,  405  ; 
streets  of,  345,  363,  364. 

Parallel  lines  as  representative,  56, 

59,  65,  68,  73-75,  97- 

Parallelism,  90,  91,  92,  95. 

Parliament,  Houses  of,  34,  36,  38, 

42,  52,  322,  358,  380. 

Parthenon,  Figures  from,  223,  225, 

281,  282. 


Pauses,  Elocutionary,  15,  39,  40. 

Pavilion  of  Richelieu,  Paris,  52, 

348,  358,  359,  38o. 

Pectoral  elocutionary  tone,  197,  207- 
209. 

Pedant’s  Proposition  of  Marriage, 
picture,  61,  138,  147,  160,  161, 
169,  175. 

Pekin,  Winter  Palace  at,  358,  376, 
377,  380,  386. 

Pericles,  225. 

Perpendicular,  Gothic,  380  ; Lines, 
52,  65,  76. 

Perplexity,  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 172,  173  ; in  color,  194, 
208. 

Persia,  capital,  394,  398  ; portal  at 
Persepolis,  393,  398. 

Perspective,  aerial,  206,  307-300  ; 
laws  of,  28,  32,  37;  in  architecture, 
32  ; in  sculpture,  302  ; lineal,  28, 
34,  37,  91,  293,  296,  298. 

Persistence,  expressed  in  natural 
outlines,  66,  112  ; of  men,  112, 

1 14,  122. 

Persuasion  expressed  in  gesture,  62. 

Peter  Martyr,  picture,  46. 

Phidias,  223. 

Phonetic  writing,  218. 

Phrenology  as  explaining  expression, 
iii,  107,  115-121. 

Physiognomy,  and  Expression,  116  ; 
as  explaining  expression,  iii,  107, 
115-121  ; Lavater’s,  117. 

Physiological  psychologist,  115. 

Physiology  as  explaining  expression, 
iii,  107-114. 

Physical  influence,  representation  of, 
ig-22  ; inhuman  form,  no,  113, 

1 1 5 , 121,  123,  124,  168,  1 71 , 174, 
175,  181,  183,  185,  198. 

Piankhi  Receiving  Submission,  27, 
50,  222. 

Picturesque,  line  in  drawing,  294- 
296  ; motive  in  architecture,  314, 
316- 

Picture-writing,  2 1 7-22 1. 

Pilasters,  324,  326,  342-349. 

Pillars,  20,  25,  32,  38,  323,  326,  330, 

336,  342,  348,  375.  387,  39°- 

Pinakothek,  Munich,  202. 

Pinnacles,  355,  371. 


INDEX. 


425 


Pitch,  of  color,  ig,  22,  39,  195,  196, 
199  ; of  sounds,  18,  192. 

Plan  as  represented  in  a building, 
320,  334-352- 

Play-impulse  of  imagination,  as  de- 
veloped in  architecture,  318,  319, 
354  ; in  all  art,  viii. 

Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,  iii, 
12,  15,  18,  56,  132,  196,  214, 
373- 

Poetry,  56,  57,  88  ; as  representing 
time  and  space,  245,  246  ; de- 
scriptive, 246  ; early,  style  of,  385; 
flowery,  never  early,  385;  form  of, 
exalted  above  significance,  vi  ; 
method  of  expression,  30,  32,  40, 
2x4,  215,  311-314  ; development 
of,  372,  373- 

Poets,  always  sharp  in  shape,  109. 

Pointed  arches,  380-385. 

Pollice  Verso,  picture,  28,  31,  34, 
91,  274,  287,  295. 

Pompei,  320,  321. 

Porches,  20,  342. 

Portrait  painting,  263-269  ; sculp- 
ture, 281,  282. 

Poussin,  N.,  46,  48,  74,  75,  139. 

Poynter,  E.  J.,  60. 

Praxiteles,  48,  144,  223. 

Preller,  L.,  224. 

Pre-Raphaelite,  228-230,  252,  295. 

Presentation  at  the  Temple,  picture, 
248,  250,  251. 

Pride,  expressed  in  countenance, 
100  ; unconfiding,  167,  176,  177. 

Principles  and  methods  of  art  edu- 
cation, 212,  296. 

Prometheus  Unbound,  poem,  244. 

Prophets,  picture,  47. 

Proportion,  57,  89,  101. 

Proportion  and  Harmony  in  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture,  306, 
3°7.  310- 

Proportionately  divided  human  face, 
90,  97,  98,  101-103  ; form,  90, 
97,  98,  101. 

Prud’hon,  48. 

Pure  elocutionary  tone,  197,  207, 
210.  See  Normal. 

Purple  color  as  representative,  195, 
197-199,  210,  211. 

Pyrrhus  Saved,  picture,  75. 


Quality,  in  sound  and  color,  18,  ig, 
22,  40,  192,  196,  igg  ; in  color, 
195,  196. 

Queen’s  College,  Galway,  84,  349, 
350,  355.  359.  360,  380. 

Questioning  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 1 71,  172. 

Radiation,  go,  95  ; in  natural  forms, 
92,  93  ; in  perspective,  298. 

Rage  and  Fear,  as  expressed  in  coun- 
tenance, 175,  179,  181,  184,  186, 
189  ; contemptuous,  175,  176,  178, 
18 1— rS3,  186,  189. 

Rank  of  Art-Work,  how  determined, 
255,  256,  259,  260. 

Rape  of  the  Sabines,  picture,  46, 
75,  87. 

Raphael,  77,  79,  104,  201,  226,  227, 
248,  250,  255,  265,  272,  276,  279, 
287. 

Rapture,  religious,  as  expressed  in 
countenance,  174,  175,  179. 

Ravenna,  San  Vitale,  380,  390,  391. 

Red,  color,  195,  197,  198,  200,  201, 
209,  210;  and  sound  of  trumpet, 
201. 

Recent  ideals  in  American  art,  292. 

Rectangles,  65. 

Reflection,  as  expressed  in  the  coun- 
tenance, 1S2,  184-186,  188  ; in 
the  bodily  movements,  129,  142, 
156,  162,  167,  igi. 

Reflective  tendency,  in  color,  193, 
194  ; in  expression,  6-13,  19-21, 
59,  61,  62,  65,  66,  73,  82,  94,  95, 
133,  134,  137,  142,  175,  198  ; in 
the  human  form,  126-137,  192- 
149;  meaning  of  term,  127. 

Reformation,  272. 

Regular  figure,  56. 

Regularity  of  countenance,  101-104  ; 
of  outline,  15-18,  22,  39,  42,  68, 
73,  88-105. 

Rejection  expressed  in  countenance, 
183,  189;  in  gesture,  158. 

Relief,  Treatment  of  Design  in,  49— 
5U  302. 

Religious,  ideas  in  art,  226  ; rapture, 
expressed  in  countenance,  175, 
179. 

Rembrandt,  48,  295,  305. 


426  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Renaissance,  52. 

Repetition,  74,  75. 

Repose,  in  architecture,  84,  326, 
356  ; in  landscape  and  figure  il- 
lustration, 69,  70,  72,  74,  259 ; 
in  outlines  of  nature,  44,  45,  66, 
72  ; Lines  expressive  of,  18,  44, 
45,  70,  90,  93,  259- 

Representation,  as  associative  or 
suggestive,  4-13,  18,  27,  28,  32, 
37.  5i,  214,  385,.  386,  388,  398, 
399  ; as  comparative  or  imitative, 
4,  6-13,  27,  28,  32,  37,  214-217, 
385,  386,  398  ; factors  of,  audible, 
2,  14—18  ; visible, 14-22,  23  ; the 
two  compared,  14-18  ; of  artist  in 
architecture,  316,  317,  320;  in 
painting  and  sculpture,  257-272  ; 
of  form  and  significance  both 
necessary,  vi,  vii,  226,  228  ; of 
mind  and  nature  go  together,  3 ; of 
mental  conceptions  in  architecture, 
28-38,  51-54,63-87,311-314,322- 
371 ; in  painting  and  sculpture,  41— 
48,  70-77,  239-290,  311-314;  of 
surrounding  appearances  in  archi- 
tecture, 28,  32,  78-87,  312-321, 
372-408;  in  painting  and  sculpture, 
41-48,  70-77,  291-310  ; sugges- 
tive of  such  conceptions  as  bright- 
ness, 193,  195-212;  dignity,  37,  66, 
73,84,  112,  114,  149,  199,  202, 
203;  distance,  28,  32,  37,  156,  206, 
207,  294,  295,  307-309  ; freedom, 
61,  65,  133  ; fussiness,  356  ; heavi- 
ness, 25,  26,  37  ; height,  32,  34, 
35,  38;  immobility,  25,  37  ; im- 
portance, 27,  37;  influence,  27,  37; 
gracefulness,  49,  61,  133  ; gayety, 
100,  183,  184,  187,  189,  191,  199, 
204;  joyousness,  65,  74  ; length,  66 
-70,  73,  74,  84  ; lightness,  25,  26  ; 
magnitude,  91,  297,  298  ; move- 
ment, 128-130,  132-189,  293,  298, 
309  ; persistence,  66,  73,  1 12,  114, 
122  ; persuasion,  62  ; repose,  44, 
45,  66,  72,  84,  326,  356  ; rigidity, 
138,  189;  seriousness,  66,  73,  74, 
82,  84,  112,  183,  199,  202,  203; 
strength,  15,  16,  18,  21,  24,  25,  32, 
42,  44,  48,  50;  substantiality, 
25>  37,  332  ! triumph,  179  ; un- 


substantiality, 26  ; weakness,  16, 
25;  49,  50  ; width,  32,  34,  35,  38  ; 
yeilding,  49.  See  also  other  con- 
ceptions as  indicated  under  Ac- 
cent, Angles,  Architecture,  Body, 
Color,  Countenance,  Curves, 
Lines,  Painting,  Sculpture,  etc. 

Responsive  expression,  30,  311-314. 

Resurrection,  The,  statue,  140,  142, 
143,  151,  152,  160,  162,  167,  174, 
286. 

Reynolds,  Sir  J.,  46,  266. 

Rhomboids,  97. 

Rhythm,  17,  57,  88,  89. 

Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry 
and  Music,  iii,  ix,  195,  214. 

Ribera,  48. 

Richelieu,  Pavilion,  52,  358,  348, 
.349,  359.  380. 

Rigidity  of  body  expressive  of  moral 
force,  138,  189. 

Rock,  cave  carved  on  inside,  3 1 5— 
317,  375,  376,  389,  407  ; tomb 
carved  on  outside,  315,  316,  375, 
376,  387,  397,  403.  407- 

Roman  art,  381. 

Romanesque  Architecture,  36,  78, 
380,  384,  388,  390. 

Romantic  Line  in  drawing,  294-296. 

Roofs,  26,  38,  327-329,  334,  342, 
353-371  ; church,  support  of,  329, 
330,  331.  332  i flat.  358-360,  362; 
Mansard,  371  ; primitive  shapes 
of,  375-378 ; visible,  359,  360, 
362,  370. 

Roslyn  Chapel,  405. 

Rossetti,  229,  230,  232. 

Rotary  motion  of  head  as  expressive, 
166,  180. 

Rottmann,  260. 

Roundness,  of  body,  110-114;  of 
face,  115,  118;  of  hands,  121, 
122  ; of  movement,  133  ; sugges- 
tive of  effects  of  growth,  82  ; of 
nature,  80. 

Rousseau,  307,  308. 

Rows  of  trees,  95. 

Royal  Academicians,  Lectures  be- 
fore, 50,  77. 

Rubens,  47,  227,  255,  276,  277  ; 
his  coloring,  202. 

Ruskin,  54,  73,  86,  260. 


INDEX. 


427 


Russian,  church,  Paris,  82-84,  86, 
323;  house,  323,  325,  403,  408; 
Troitzka  Monastery,  380,  388,  390. 

Ruysdael,  260,  261. 

Ryerson  Physical  Laboratory,  368, 
369,  380. 

Sabines,  Rape  of,  46,  75,  87. 

Sacrifice  at  Lystra,  Raphael,  158, 
276,  279,  287. 

Sadness  in  countenance,  189. 

Samson,  386. 

San  Vitale,  Ravenna,  380,  390,  391. 

Sargent,  264. 

Scale,  Musical,  40. 

Scene  in  the  Woods,  32,  33,  73,  399. 

Scheming  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 1 7 1 . 

Schiller  Platz,  Berlin,  354,  357,  380. 

School  of  Athens,  Raphael,  201,  248, 
249,  250,  272,  287. 

Schnorr,  J.,  226. 

Scold  expressed  in  countenance,  100. 

Scott,  Sir  W.,  86. 

Sculpture,  allegorical,  286;  as  repre- 
senting details,  385-396,  399- 

402  ; mental  conceptions,  280- 
290  ; light  and  shade,  41,  302  ; 
space  and  time,  245-253  ; texture, 
303  ; touch,  48-51  ; color  in,  280  ; 
excellence  of  ancient  Egyptian, 
222  ; its  mode  of  expression  dis- 
tinguished from  that  of  architec- 
ture and  music,  28-33,  311-314; 
from  painting,  28,  281  ; lines  in, 
70-78  ; historical,  286  ; material 
of,  203,  280  ; mythological,  286  ; 
subjects  demanding  dignity  of 
treatment,  280,  281  ; symbolical, 
286. 

Self-consciousness  as  expressed  in 
the  human  form,  61. 

Self-control  as  manifested  in  human 
form,  114,  149. 

Self  Instructor,  Fowler’s,  108. 

Seriousness,  as  manifested  in  color, 
199,  202,  203  ; in  countenance, 
183  ; in  outlines,  66,  73,  74,  82, 
84,  113. 

Sensations  of  Sound,  Helmholtz, 
378. 

Setting,  Artistic  method  of,  91,  92. 


Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  The, 
54- 

Shade,  Light  and,  17,  18,  41,  42- 
50,  51,  55,  293,  294;  in  color, 
304-306,  309  ; in  statues,  41,  301, 
302  ; in  architecture,  52,  54  ; lines 
expressive  of,  18,  41,  44,  46,  294, 
306. 

Shadows,  52  ; darkest  in  brightest 
light,  294,  306  ; how  produced  by 
color,  294,  302,  304,  305,  307,  308. 

Shading,  17,  39,  41,  42,  57.  See 
Light  and  Shade. 

Shakespear,  248. 

Shaking  hands,  236. 

Shape,  15,  t8,  32,  88,  89,  no  ; an- 
gularity of,  55-87,  89  ; curvature 
of,  17,  21,  55-87,  88-94  ; repre- 
sentation of,  with  texture,  in 
color,  306,  307  ; in  drawing,  41, 
42,  293,  294  ; in  sculpture,  41, 
302  ; through  human,  106-124  I 
though  material,  39-87  ; regular- 
ity of,  88-105. 

Sharpness,  of  face  and  body,  108- 
115,  118-120;  of  hand,  121-123, 
134,  I55-  See  Angles  and  An- 
gularity. 

Sheldon,  G.  W.,  292. 

Shelley,  244. 

Shoulders  as  expressive,  123,  148. 

Sides  or  walls  of  buildings,  323-352. 

Sideward  movements  of  body  as 
representative,  130,  148-155,  166, 
167,  170-175. 

Sight  as  used  in  art,  2,  3,  12,  14—18. 

Significance,  in  architecture,  28—38, 
78-86,  87,  316,  317,  320,  321- 
371  ; painting,  239-279,  286-290  ; 
of  animals.  262,  263  ; flowers  and 
fruits,  256-258  ; landscapes,  258- 
262  ; portraits,  263-269  ; in  sculp- 
ture, 280-290  ; in  that  of  Greece, 
222,  224,  225  ; necessary  in  paint- 
ing and  sculpture,  221-286  ; 
reasons  for  denying  necessity  of, 
vii,  242,  243  ; versus  regularity 
in  faces  and  groups,  102-105  ; 
versus  form  in  poetry,  vi,  vii. 

Significant  in  itself,  necessary  in  a 
painting,  254-278  ; in  a statue, 
281-286. 


42<S  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , ^yVZ?  ARCHITECTURE. 


Simile,  accuracy  of  imitation  in, 
.243,  244. 

Simple  lines,  as  representative,  76, 
77-87  ; effects  in  architecture,  78, 
405. 

Sincerity,  330,  332,  407,  408. 

Sistine  Chapel,  47,  75,  298. 

Size,  as  representative,  15,  19,  20, 
23-38  ; of  parts  of  body  and  ex- 
pression, 168. 

Sky-line,  uniformity  in  street  and 
institutional  architecture,  362-364, 
366,  367,  370. 

Slender  as  representative,  21. 

Smallness  as  representative,  25,  26. 

Smiling  face,  121,  184,  187. 

Smith,  A.,  244. 

Sneer  in  countenance,  roo. 

Soldiers,  Colors  in  uniforms  of,  200, 
210. 

Soldier’s  Return,  relief,  50,  51,  286, 
302  • 

Solicitude  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 186. 

Sorrow  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
185-188,  190. 

Sorrowful  countenance,  173. 

Soul,  as  expressed  in  architecture, 
342  ; in  art,  12,  202  ; correspond- 
ing to  emotion,  1 2. 

Sound  and  Color  compared,  192-212. 

Sounds  as  used  in  art,  2,  3,  23. 

Space  or  spaces  as  represented  in 
painting,  sculpture,  and  poetry, 
245-253  ; as  representative  in  arts 
of  sight,  14-38,  56,  88,  8g. 

Spanish  Lady,  picture,  304. 

Spatulated  fingers,  121,  122. 

Spencer,  H.,  127. 

Spine,  1 14.  See  Nerves. 

Spires,  355,  357,  378  ; primitive, 
378  ; Tissington,  65-67,  70,  72, 
259,  399-  See  Towers. 

Square  as  representative,  56,  65,  97  ; 
of  character  in  the  face,  99. 

Statues,  Greek.  224,  225. 

St.  Bruno,  Life  of,  picture,  74. 

Steel  in  building,  330.  See  Iron. 

Steen,  J. , 307. 

Stern’s  Maria,  picture,  129,  131,  142, 
156,  168. 

St.  Gaudens,  266. 


Stimson,  J.  W.,  212,  296,  297. 

St.  Isaac’s  Cathedral,  34-36,  38,  42, 
52,  82,  352,  353,  356,  380. 

St.  Mark’s  Cathedral,  36-38,  42,  52, 
78,  82,  86,  380. 

St.  Michael  and  Satan,  Raphael,  103, 
104,  145,  168. 

Stone-age  figures,  215,  216. 

Storm,  260  ; lines  representative  of, 
18,  43,  44,  60,  72,  259. 

Storm,  A,  picture,  230,  231,  253, 
259,  260,  295,  300. 

Story  told  by  painting,  252,  253, 
268,  270-272. 

Straightness,  as  representative  in 
nature,  56-87  ; in  the  human  face 
and  figure,  112,  134,  138,  140, 

149. 

Straight  lines  as  representative,  56- 
87  ; in  architecture,  405. 

Street  Architecture,  362,  363  ; of 
America,  364-367  ; of  Paris,  363, 
364,  370. 

Strength,  Outlines  representing,  15, 
16,  18,  21,  24,  25,  32,  41,  42,  44  ; 
in  architecture,  32,  41,  42,  52,  54, 
355- 

Stress,  Elocutionary,  39,  56. 

String-courses,  323,  342,  344,  346, 
347- 

Stroke,  15.  See  Touch  and  Hand- 
ling. 

Strozzi  Palace,  Florence,  346,  347, 
359,  360. 

St.  Sophia,  Constantinople,  78,  80, 
82,  86,  3S0. 

Stubbornness  in  countenance,  176. 

Style,  Early,  in  all  the  arts  less  imi- 
tative in  details  than  later,  385- 
396,  399-402  ; Greek  and  Gothic 
for  groups  of  buildings  contrasted, 
367,  369;  for  public  institutions, 
367,  369- 

Styles  of  Architecture,  78,  378-384. 

Subjective  expression,  30,  312. 

Subjects  of  art-works,  as  determin- 
ing their  rank,  255,  256  ; causing 
allegorical  painting,  248,  272, 

273  ; and  sculpture,  286  ; histori- 
cal painting,  274-278  ; and  sculp- 
ture, 286  ; mythological  painting, 
272,  273  ; and  sculpture,  286 ; 


INDEX. 


429 


symbolical  painting,  272-274; 
and  sculpture,  286. 

Submission  as  expressed  in  counte- 
nance, 174. 

Substantiality  as  represented  by  out- 
line, 25,  37,  332. 

Summer  Evening,  A,  picture,  270, 
273; 

Superiority,  Moral,  as  expressed  in 
pose  of  head  and  figure,  178. 

Surface,  Representation  of,  41,  42, 
46-49  ; in  color,  306,  307  ; in 
drawing,  293,  294  ; in  sculpture, 
41,  302. 

Surprise  as  expressed  in  countenance 
and  pose,  171,  175,  186,  187. 

Suspension  Bridge,  20. 

Suspicion  as  expressed  in  the  coun- 
tenance, amiable,  171,  186  ; un- 
amiable,  171,  177. 

Sustained  expression,  30,  31 1,  312. 

Sydney,  University  at,  84,  324,  349, 
35U  352,  355,  359,  360,  362,  369, 
380. 

Syllables  in  measures,  16,  57. 

Symbolic,  painting,  272,  274  ; sculp- 
ture, 286. 

Symmetry,  93,  95,  96. 

Sympathetic  nerves,  126,  127. 

Synthetic  Philosophy  of  Expression, 
108. 

Tabernacle  as  represented  in  Tem- 
ple, 376,  377. 

Tadema,  Alma,  307. 

Tails  as  interpretive,  112. 

Taking  of  Jerusalem,  248,  250,  265. 

Tall  buildings,  364-367. 

Technique,  necessity  of,  vii  ; of  ap- 
preciation of,  292  ; reason  for 
denying  necessity  of,  243. 

Teeth  as  representative,  181,  189. 

Temperaments,  108-114,  124-127. 

Temples,  Oriental,  376,  377. 

Tendrils  as  interpretive,  112. 

Teniers,  47. 

Tennyson,  40. 

Tent,  as  represented  in  temples  and 
palaces,  376,  377,  386. 

Terborch,  307. 

Terminal  elocutionary  stress,  16. 

Terror  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
173,  183-186,  188. 


Testament  of  Eudamidas,  picture, 
74- 

Texture,  as  represented  in  color, 
306,  307  ; in  drawing,  41,  42,  293, 
294  ; in  sculpture,  41,  303. 

Theseus,  Temple  of,  34-36,  38,  42, 
52,  84,  86,  322,  323,  380,  386, 
387,  389- 

Thoughts,  as  represented  in  art,  1, 
2,  23-25,  214,  215,  226,  241  ; in 
buildings,  31 1— 371 ; in  paintings  of 
animals,  262,  263  ; of  landscapes, 
259—262  ; of  portraits,  268,  269  ; 
in  pictures  and  statues,  239—253  ; 
in  shapes  and  movements  of  men, 
96-189  ; in  shapes  of  nature,  59— 
96  ; in  colors,  192-212,  291-310. 

Threatening  expressed  in  counte- 
nance and  pose,  62,  65,  145,  167— 

171,  172,  183. 

Thumb  as  representative,  123,  124. 

Time  as  represented  in  painting, 
poetry,  and  sculpture,  245-251. 

Tissington  Spires,  landscape,  65,  66, 
67,  70,  72,  259,  399. 

Titian,  46,  227,  255,  295,  305. 

Titus,  statue,  281,  282. 

Tomassee,  118. 

Tomb,  of  Giuliano  de’  Medici,  50, 
301,  302  ; Rock  of  Myra,  315,  316, 
375,  376,  387,  397,  403,  407- 

Tone,  18;  as  color,  192;  correlated 
to  color,  195-198  ; in  elocution, 
196  ; mixed,  207. 

Torch,  Representation  of,  in  paint- 
ing, 300. 

Torso,  as  representative,  no,  123, 
126,  142,  144,  145,  147- 

Touch,  in  painting,  15,  16,  ig,  21, 
42-48,  55  ; in  sculpture,  48-51. 

Tower  or  towers,  327,  330,  349,  355, 
357, .358.  _ 

Traditional  in  Architecture,  406. 

Trees  looking  like  columns  and 
arches,  32,  33,  84,  398,  399,  403. 

Triangle,  56. 

Trinity,  Church,  Boston,  35,  53,  54, 
84,  323,  334,  3S0  ; School,  New 
York,  323,  362,  363,  369. 

Triumph  as  expressed  in  the  coun- 
tenance, 179. 

Trochee,  poetic  measure,  57. 


43°  PAINTING , SCULPTURE , AND  ARCHITECTURE. 


Troyon,  307,  308. 

Trumpet,  resembling  red  color,  201. 

Tudor  Gothic,  380. 

Tunes  of  verse,  18. 

Turner,  73,  260. 

Turrets,  331,  332,  355,  See  Towers. 

Ugly  or  ugliness,  97-99,  102,  103. 

Unamiable  suspicion  expressed  in 
countenance,  171,  177. 

Unconfiding  pride  expressed  in 
countenance,  167,  T76,  177. 

Unconscious,  The,  expressed  in  hu- 
man form,  61,  126. 

Unconstrained,  The,  expressed  in 
human  form,  61,  133. 

Uniformity,  in  colors,  199  ; in  sky- 
line of  street  and  institutional 
architecture,  362-364,  366,  367, 

370  ; not  necessary  to  beauty  or 
regularity  of  countenance,  100- 
103. 

Unity  of  style  in  groups  of  buildings, 

3.67. 

University,  of  Chicago,  367,  380  ; 
of  Pennsylvania,  327,  329,  331,355, 

371  ; at  Sydney,  84,  324,  349,  351, 
352,  355-  359,  360,  362,  369,  380. 

Unsubstantiality  as  represented  in 
size,  26. 

Unsustained  expression,  30,  3 1 1-314. 

Unter  den  Linden,  Berlin,  344,  360, 
364- 

Up  ward  movements  of  gesture,  129, 
134,  135,  148-154  ; of  eyes,  171, 
J74- 

Useful  feature,  how  developed  into 
artistic,  318. 

Valmarina  Palace,  324,  326,  348, 
358,  380. 

Value,  in  buildings,  366  ; in  draw- 
ing,  304  ; in  colors,  303,  304,  306, 
309- 

Van  Beers,  270,  271,  273. 

Van  Dyke,  J.  C.,  292,  300,  301. 

Vanishing-point  in  painting,  91,  298. 

Variety  of  color,  excitation  in,  194, 
195-208  ; desirable  and  attainable 
in  groups  of  buildings,  367,  369. 

Vatican,  247. 

Velasquez,  48. 


Velletri,  47. 

Ventilator  on  roofs,  331,  332. 

Venus,  Earlier  dignity  of  statues  of, 
225. 

Venus,  de’  Medici,  76,  77,  138,  142, 
223,  225,  2S1  ; Leaving  the  Bath, 
76,  223,  225,  281,  282. 

Veronesi,  P.,  72,  276. 

Vertical  lines,  as  representative,  66, 
67,  73-75-  7.8.  84,  90,  97,  187; 
in  face,  166;  in  gestures,  150,  151, 
!52- 

Verticality,  378. 

Visible,  foundation,  322  ; represen- 
tation, 1,  2,  23-38;  roof,  359, 
360,  362  ; walls,  323. 

Vital  expression  in  movements  of 
body,  128,  133,  142,  144,  168- 
191  ; temperament,  as  manifested 
by  breadth  of  figure  and  face, 
108— 1 1 8 ; of  hand,  121-124.  See 
Physical. 

Vocal  utterance,  2,  7. 

Voice  in  speech,  7. 

Von  Schadow,  228. 


Wagner,  iv,  402,  405. 

Walls,  blank,  343  ; made  represent- 
ative, 38,  323-352. 

Walker  Museum,  Chicago  Univer- 
sity, 367,  369,  380. 

Walking,  Expressiveness  of,  with 
breast  and  brow  in  advance,  145, 
147,  148,  169,  172  ; with  face,  148, 
167,  171  ; upright,  149,  151,  169. 

Warm  colors,  195-212. 

Water  Color  Exhibition,  cover  of 
catalogue,  232,  233. 

Waves,  Colors  of,  300. 

Weakness,  Representation  of,  in 
size,  16,  25  ; in  smoothness,  49  ; 
in  relief,  50. 

Weight,  Representation  of,  in  size, 
24- 

Wells  Cathedral,  203,  205,  380,  405. 

Werner’s  Magazine,  116. 

West,  B.,  226,  228. 

Westminster  Abbey,  3S0,  403-405. 

Whew,  Pointing  of  lips  on  uttering, 
182,  184. 


INDEX. 


431 


Whispers,  representative  in  elocu- 
tion, 196,  207-210. 

White,  color,  203,  204,  207,  210, 
21 1 ; for  buildings,  204;  marble 
for  statues,  203. 

Whitney,  7. 

Width,  Effect  of,  lessened  by  large- 
ness of  environment,  32  ; by 
height,  34,  35  ; in  doors  repre- 
sentative of,  38. 

Wild  Boar,  picture,  47. 

Wilde,  O.,  vii. 

Willems,  F.,  226,  307. 

Will-power,  as  represented,  19. 

Windows  made  representative,  38, 
342,  349.  352. 

Winkleman’s  Ancient  Art,  73. 

Woman  Taken  in  Adultery,  The, 
picture,  129,  139,  140,  155,  158, 
161,  168,  174,  186,  276,  287. 

Wonder  as  expressed  in  countenance, 
184. 

Wood  in  buildings  as  represented  in 


stone,  315-317.  375.  376,  378, 
407,  408. 

Woods,  Scene  in  the,  32,  33,  73, 
399- 

Words,  Origin  of.  4-7. 

Wordsworth,  vi. 

Wouverman,  262. 

Wright  of  Derby,  131. 

Writing,  as  separated  from  art  in 
Egypt,  221  ; in  Greece,  222  ; 
early  methods  of,  216-221. 

Wyatt,  225,  315. 

Yankee  Sullivan,  115,  irg,  124. 

Yellow,  Book,  234,  236  ; color  as 
representative,  195,  197,  198,  200, 
210,  220. 

Yenouge,  93. 

Yerkes,  C.  T.,  270,  271. 

Yielding  as  expressed  in  smooth 
surfaces,  49. 

Zouaves,  color  of  uniform  of,  200. 


POEMS  BY  PROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 


A Life  in  Song.  i6°,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top  . . . . $1.25 

“ Mr.  Raymond  is  a poet,  with  all  that  the  name  implies.  He  has  the  true  fire — there  is 
no  disputing  that.  There  is  thought  of  an  elevated  character,  the  diction  is  pure,  the 
versification  is  true,  the  meter  correct,  and  . . . affords  innumerable  quotations  to  fortify 

and  instruct  one  for  the  struggles  of  life.” — Hartford  Post. 

“ Marked  by  a fertility  and  strength  of  imagination  worthy  of  our  first  poets.  . . . The 
versification  throughout  is  graceful  and  thoroughly  artistic,  the  imagery  varied  and  spon- 
taneous, . . . the  multitude  of  contemporary  bardlings  may  find  in  its  sincerity  of  pur- 
pose and  loftiness  of  aim  a salutary  inspiration.” — The  Literary  World  (Boston). 

“Original  and  noble  thoughts,  gracefully  put  into  verse.  . , . Mr.  Raymond  thoroughly 
understands  the  true  poet’s  science,  man.” — The  Literary  World  (London). 

“ Here,  for  instance,  are  lines  which,  if  panted  in  letters  of  gold  on  the  front  of  every 
pulpit,  and  practised  by  every  one  behind  one,  would  transform  the  face  of  the  theological 
world.  ...  In  short,  if  you  are  in  search  of  ideas  that  are  unconventional  and  up-to-date, 
get  ‘A  Life  in  Song,’  and  read  it.”  — Unity. 

“ The  poet  has  ‘a  burden’  as  conscious  and  urgent  as  the  prophet  of  old.  His  is  a 
‘story  with  a purpose,’  and  very  deftly  and  effectively  is  it  sung  into  the  ear  of  the  cap- 
tivated listener.  . . . Wonderful  versatility  and  mastery  of  the  poetic  art  are  shown  in 
the  manipulation  of  speech  to  the  service  of  thought.  . . . Professor  Raymond  has  re- 

vealed a metrical  genius  of  the  highest  order.” — The  Watchman. 

“A  remarkably  fine  study  of  the  hopes,  aspirations,  and  disappointments  of  . . . an 
American  modern  life.  ...  Is  not  only  dramatic  in  tendency,  but  is  singularly  realis- 
tic and  acute.  . . . The  volume  will  appeal  to  a large  class  of  readers  by  reason  of  its 

clear,  musical,  flexible  verse,  its  fine  thought,  and  its  intense  human  interest.” — Boston 
Transcript. 

Ballads,  and  Other  Poems.  160,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top  . . $1.25 

“ Notable  examples  of  what  may  be  wrought  of  native  material  by  one  who  has  a taste- 
ful ear  and  practised  hand.  . . . There  is  true  enjoyment  in  all  that  he  has  written.” — 
Boston  Globe . 

“A  very  unusual  success,  a success  to  which  genuine  poetic  power  has  not  more  con- 
tributed than  wide  reading  and  extensive  preparation.  The  ballads  overflow,  not  only 
with  the  general,  but  with  the  very  particular  truths  of  history.” — Cincinnati  Times. 

“A  work  of  true  genius,  brimful  of  imagination  and  sweet  humanity.” — The  Fireside 
(London). 

“ Fine  and  strong,  its  thought  original  and  suggestive,  while  its  expression  is  the  very 
perfection  of  narrative  style.’  - — The  N.  Y.  Critic. 

“ Proves  beyond  doubt  that  Mr.  Raymond  is  the  possessor  of  a poetic  faculty  which  is 
worthy  of  the  most  careful  and  conscientious  cultivation.” — N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

“A  very  thoughtful  study  of  character  . . . great  knowledge  of  aims  and  motives.  . . . 
Such  as  read  this  poem  will  derive  from  it  a benefit  more  lasting  than  the  mere  pleasure  of 
the  moment.” — The  Spectator  (London). 

“ Mr.  Raymond  is  a poet  emphatically,  and  not  a scribbler  in  rhyme.” — Literary 
Churchman  (London). 

The  Aztec  God  and  Other  Dramas.  16“,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top  . $1.25 

“ The  three  dramas  included  in  this  volume  represent  a felicitous,  intense,  and  me- 
lodious expression  of  art  both  from  the  artistic  and  poetic  point  of  view.  . . . Mr. 
Raymond’s  power  is  above  all  that  of  psychologist,  and  added  thereto  are  the  richest 
products  of  the  imagination  both  in  form  and  spirit.  The  book  clearly  discloses  the  work 
of  a man  possessed  of  an  extremely  refined  critical  poise,  of  a culture  pure  and  classical, 
and  a sensitive  conception  of  what  is  sweetest  and  most  ravishing  in  tone-quality.  The 
most  delicately  perceptive  ear  could  not  detect  a flaw  in  the  mellow  and  rich  music  of  the 
blank  verse.” — Public  Opinion. 

“.  . . The  plot  is  exceedingly  interesting  and  well  executed.  . . . It  is  careful 

work,  strong  and  thoughtful  in  its  conception.” — Worcester  Spy. 

“As  fine  lines  as  are  to  be  found  anywhere  in  English.  . . . Sublime  thought  fairly 

leaps  in  sublime  expression.  ...  As  remarkable  for  its  force  of  epigram  as  for  its 
loftiness  of  conception.” — Cleveland  World. 

“ There  are  countless  quotable  passages  in  Professor  Raymond’s  fine  verse.  . . . 

The  work  is  one  of  unusual  power  and  brilliancy,  and  the  thinker  or  the  student  of  liter- 
ature will  find  the  book  deserving  of  careful  study.” — Toledo  Blade. 

“ . . . ‘Columbus’  one  finds  a work  which  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  injuring  with  ful- 

some praise.  The  character  of  the  great  discoverer  is  portrayed  grandly  and  greatly. 

. . . It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  anyone  who  cares  for  that  which  is  best  in  litera- 
ture . . . could  fail  to  be  strengthened  and  uplifted.” — N.  Y.  Press. 

Dante  and  Poetry.  Just  issued.  i6°,  cloth  extra,  gilt  top  . $1.25 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS,  New  York  and  London. 


OTHER  WORKS  BY  BROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 


The  Essentials  of  ^Esthetics.  8vo.  Illustrated  . . Net,  $2.50 

This  work,  which  is  mainly  a compendium  of  the  author’s  system  of  Comparative 
/Esthetics,  previously  published  in  seven  volumes,  was  prepared,  by  request,  for  a text- 
book, and  for  readers  whose  time  is  too  limited  to  study  the  minutiae  of  the  subject. 

41  We  consider  Professor  Raymond  to  possess  something  like  an  ideal  equipment.  . . . 

His  own  poetry  is  genuine  and  delicately  constructed,  his  appreciations  are  true  to  high 
ideals,  and  his  power  of  scientific  analysis  is  unquestionable.  . . . He  “was  known, 

when  a student  at  Williams,  as  a musician  and  a poet — the  latter  because  of  taking,  in  his 
freshman  year,  a prize  in  verse  over  the  whole  college.  After  graduating  in  this  country, 
he  went  through  a course  of  sesthetics  with  Professor  Vischer  of  the  University  of  Tu- 
bingen, and  also  with  Professor  Curtius  at  the  time  when  that  historian  of  Greece  was 
spending  several  hours  a week  with  his  pupils  among  the  marbles  of  the  Berlin  Museum. 
Subsequently,  believing  that  all  the  arts  are,  primarily,  developments  of  different  forms 
of  expression  through  the  topes  and  movements  of  the  body,  Professor  Raymond  made  a 
thorough  study,  chiefly  in  Paris,  of  methods  of  cultivating  and  using  the  voice  in  both 
singing  and  speaking,  and  of  representing  thought  and  emotion  through  postures  and 
gestures.  It  is  a result  of  these  studies  that  he  afterwards  developed,  first,  into  his 
methods  of  teaching  elocution  and  literature  ” (as  embodied  in  his  4 Orator’s  Manual  ’ 
and  1 The  Writer ')“  and  later  into  his  aesthetic  system.  . . . A Princeton  man  has  said 

of  him  that  he  has  as  keen  a sense  for  a false  poetic  element  as  a bank  expert  for  a 
counterfeit  note;  and  a New  York  model  who  posed  for  him,  when  preparing  illustrations 
for  one  of  his  books,  said  that  he  was  the  only  man  that  he  had  ever  met  who  could 
invariably,  without  experiment,  tell  him  at  once  what  posture  to  assume  in  order  to  rep- 
resent any  required  sentiment.” — New  York  Times. 

“So  lucid  in  expression  and  rich  in  illustration  that  every  page  contains  matter  of  deep 
interest  even  to  the  general  reader.” — Boston  Herald. 

“ Its  superior  in  an  effective  all-round  discussion  of  its  subject  is  not  in  sight.” 

The  Outlook  (N.  Y.) 

44  Dr.  Raymond’s  book  will  be  invaluable.  He  shows  a knowledge  both  extensive  and 
exact  of  the  various  fine  arts  and  accompanies  his  ingenious  and  suggestive  theories  by 
copious  illustrations.” — The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

Published  by  G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS,  27  West  23d  St.,  New  York. 


The  Psychology  of  Inspiration.  8vo  ....  Net,  $1.40 

An  attempt  to  distinguish  Religious  from  Scientific  Truth  and  to  Harmonize  Chris- 
tianity with  Modern  Thought. 

Dr.  J.  Mark  Baldwin,  Professor  of  Psychology  in  John  Hopkins  University,  says  that 
its  psychological  position  is  “new  and  valuable  ’ ; Dr.  W.  T.  Harris,  late  United  States 
Commissioner  of  Education , says  that  it  is  sure  44  to  prove  helpful  to  many  who  find  them- 
selves on  the  border  line  between  the  Christian  and  the  non-Christian  beliefs”  ; and  Dr. 
Edward  Everett  Hale  says  “no  one  has  approached  the  subject  from  this  point  of  view.” 

“A  book  that  everybody  should  read.  . . . medicinal  for  profest  Christians,  and 

full  of  guidance  and  encouragement  for  those  finding  themselves  somewhere  between  the 
desert  and  the  town.  The  sane,  fair,  kindly  attitude  taken  gives  of  itself  a profitable  les- 
son. The  author  proves  conclusively  that  his  mind— and  if  his,  why  not  another? — can 
be  at  one  and  the  same  time  sound,  sanitary,  scientific,  and  essentially  religious.” — The 
Examiner , Chicago. 

44  It  is,  we  think,  difficult  to  overestimate  the  value  of  this  volume  at  the  present  critical 
pass  in  the  history  of  Christianity.” — The  Arena,  Boston. 

44  The  author  has  taken  up  a task  calling  for  heroic  effort;  and  has  given  us  a volume 
worthy  of  careful  study.  . . . The  conclusion  is  certainly  very  reasonable.” 

Christian  Intelligencer , New  York. 

44  The  author  writes  with  logic  and  a 4 sweet  reasonableness’  that  will  doubtless  con- 
vince many  halting  minds.  It  is  an  inspiring  book.” — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

44  Interesting,  suggestive,  helpful.” — Boston  Congregationalist. 

44  Thoughtful,  reverent,  suggestive.” — Lutheran  Observer , Philadelphia. 

Published  by  FUNK  & WAGNALLS  COMPANY,  44  East  23d  St.,  New  York. 


The  Orators’  Manual,  a Text-Book  of  Vocal  Culture  and 

Gesture  ...  in  constant  demand  for  years.  . . Net,  $1.12 

The  Speaker,  a Collaborated  Text-Book  of  Oratory.  . . Net,  $1.00 

The  Writer,  a Collaborated  Text-Book  of  Rhetoric.  . . Net,  90  cts. 

Published  by  SILVER,  BURDETT&  COMPANY,  231  West  39th  St.,  New  York. 


This  Book  is  Due 


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